Criminal Insanity
by Kyoui-chan
Summary: School. Serial killers. Deranged siblings. And shinobi training on top of that. [modern AU, main ItachiGaaraSasuke, lots of other pairings. Yaoi, yuri, het.]
1. Chapter 1

Criminal Insanity

Summary: A modern world where shinobi are sent to real high school. Normal society tries to ignore their existence, but find that they can't. AU, yaoi, Itachi/Gaara/Sasuke

Warning: Yaoi. Het. Possibly yuri. If you are offended by any of this... well, I'm sorry. It's what's in store.

Also, aside from the main pairing (Itachi/Gaara/Sasuke) which is set in stone, the pairings HAVE NOT BEEN DECIDED! If there's good ideas out there or something that a majority of people want... It might find it's way into the story!

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own Naruto. If I did... Well, let's just say that SasuNaru would be more canon than it already is. Oh, and Uchihacest would totally be canon. And then it would be a romantical nightmare... let's just be glad I don't own Naruto. XD

Spellcheck of the Day: Sakura: Samurai

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Sasuke was late. Well, not late as in going-to-be penalized late. It was beneath his dignity as an Uchiha to ever do that. No, he was simply late by his own standards, which, while not as heinous a crime, was still irksome.

He shifted his bag on his shoulder, trying to ignore the fact that he was still eating his toast. Maybe if _he _looked like he didn't notice it, nobody else would either. Sasuke didn't like eating in front of people. Probably most of the school's population though he was anorexic.

The toast was gone by the time he'd reached his locker, the early hour protecting him from any more scrutiny than a few disinterested upperclassmen. He twiddled the combination to his locker and opened it with a sharp jerk. His books half-fell out of the bottom of the locker- Sasuke stopped the avalanche with his foot and shoved it back in.

He grabbed the books he needed and rooted through the mess of papers and notebooks that was shoved pell-mell around and above the textbooks until he found the right ones, slotting them all into his messenger bag neatly. Anyone looking into the two receptacles would never believe they belonged to the same person.

Contrary to image, though, Sasuke hated organization. His room was a complete mess of unmade bed, sheets pooled on the floor after being stripped off the bed and ignored, pillows half-under the bed, and don't even get started on the clothes tossed over the floor and papers underfoot. It was the nightmare of his parents that a visitor should happen in there.

He sat in the back of his classroom, dropping his bag alongside his chair and leaning on his elbows on the desk. Now if only he had been here at his usual time, he could catch an extra five to ten minutes of sleep, just like this, before anyone else got in. He was tempted to, anyway, but then there were the usual squeals of "Sasuke-kuuun!" from the door, and Sakura and Ino were clawing for the chance to be first through the door.

Sasuke envisioned duct tape. Preferably on their mouths and tying their hands behind their backs so they couldn't cling onto his arms like the little leeches they were and couldn't shriek at him for all eternity as they seemed set on doing.

If he was anyone else, Sasuke would have let his head thump to the desk in exasperation. He couldn't deal with this, not without his morning sleep time to compose himself. Unfortunately, he wasn't anyone else. Damn Uchiha pride.

"Ohayou, Sasuke-kun!" Sakura chirped, slipping into the seat next to him. Ino gave her a glare, which seamlessly slid into a bright, alluring expression for Sasuke. Creepy. She sat on the desk on the side opposite Sakura.

These two really needed to get a life. Ugh. Imagine coming early _just_ in order to monopolize his time. Sasuke wished to god that the homeroom teacher would actually get annoyed enough one of these days to give them assigned seats, but no. Iruka-sensei seemed to have endless patience. Sasuke had heard a rumor (more like overheard Naruto talking to Kiba about it- the blonde was so _loud!_) of something involving preschool children.

The usual five minutes of torture with only the two girls chattering to him (he didn't see why- ultimately they were just chattering over him and talking to each other) passed by with no greater event than the beginnings of Sasuke's morning headache. Then, finally, other people began to pour into the school, their chatter and footsteps echoing through the halls as the buses arrived and people made it from the trains.

Thank god, Sakura and Ino were distractable, though the distraction formed in the way of a group of more twittering, fluttering girls, with one or two of the buff, dumb, un'trained jocks that those who had given up on their chances with Sasuke favored. Sakura and Ino still apparently thought they had a chance, though, possibly because they were the most truthful or persistent, but probably because they were 'trained.

Iruka-sensei arrived looking a bit flustered, probably at having arrived after the majority of his students. Sasuke tried to block out the girls now somehow, in their mysterious feminine way, both ignoring him and all focusing their conversation at him at once.

Shikamaru dragged in just before the bell, followed by Naruto, who nearly crashed into a desk at a dead run, his uniform jacket half-on and his backpack being dragged unzipped behind him.

"Ha!! Not late! Not late!" Naruto cheered, doing a little circular dance before somehow hoisting his open backpack onto the desk without losing any of the crumpled books, papers, and who knew what was stuffed in there. Unlike Sasuke, Naruto didn't bother to make even those things on his person look good.

"Yes, we're all very proud of you, Naruto." Iruka sighed. "Now if you'd please get your uniform on properly and take a seat, we can begin."

"Hai, Iruka-sensei!"

Iruka began calling attendance, though it wasn't really necessary, since he knew where everybody sat and could just as easily take it without _calling _it. Sasuke hated how it drew attention to every absent. But then, Sasuke hated a lot of things- he just put up with them anyway.

Iruka-sensei left after homeroom, leaving them with probably twenty minutes before Kakashi-sensei actually arrived. About half the class swarmed out into the halls for the five-minute passing period, to talk to their friends from other classes.

A slim, dark-haired boy appeared at the door, prompting a shout of "Haku!!" from Naruto. Haku smiled at the blonde, making his way over with ethereal grace to Sasuke's desk with Naruto trailing behind. He sat on Sasuke's desk (the one thing none of the females had dared to do yet, but Haku was different, no matter how much like a girl he looked. He was much less annoying, for one) and twisted around to face both the Uchiha and Naruto, who was sitting on Sakura's vacated desk.

"So." Haku started.

"You finally decided to let on that you're 'trained and come be in A class with us?"

"...no." Haku, for some reason, was very shy when it came to being 'trained. Something to do with having a Skill and prejudice where he'd grown up. "Even better!" He perked up again. "There's a new guy in my class- kind of creepy, reminds me of Zabuza just a bit."

"How so?" from Naruto.

Haku waved a hand lazily. "Oh, you know. Neither of them really have eyebrows. Similarities end there, though."

"So why is he remarkable enough that you had to come over here to tell us about it?" Sasuke asked. He hated people dancing around the point- Haku only got away with it because he did it on purpose to piss Sasuke off.

"Oh, well, I'm fairly sure he's 'trained, so he'll be transferred in here soon enough." Haku hopped off the desk and brushed his uniform back into order. "See you at lunch!" He waved and took off back to his classroom.

A new 'trained... Now that was interesting. All the families who 'trained int eh Fire country lived in Konoha City. So, like Haku, for him to be new... foreign-born. Foreign-'trained always had the most interesting moves.

"What you smiling about, teme?"

Sasuke gave him an affronted look. He did not _smile_. He smirked. Evilly. Damn Naruto. "Why do you care?" he shot back.

Naruto didn't get to answer, because then Sakura was there, shrieking, "What the hell do you think you're doing on my desk?!"

Really, that was so much better. Her screaming at Naruto he could half-tolerate; her simpering at him just made him want to throw up.

Kakashi appeared in front of the teacher's desk with a poof of smoke. Stupid show off third-level 'trained. A lot of the teachers for their class were 'trained, since otherwise it was unfair to expect them to try to keep track of all the 'trained students, mostly first or second-level, but still tough to keep under control (especially with students like Naruto and Kiba- rambunctious to the extreme).

Sasuke thought it made no sense to integrate this class. It meant that they had to follow normal curriculum, instead of what might be more useful to the 'trained people. It wasn't like anyone with good 'training was going to actually become an English professor or anything, was it? Even Kakashi was actually a mercenary with police ties- he just helped out... well, nobody knew _why_ he helped out. Sasuke suspected that the extra money was probably a good bet.

By lunchtime, Sasuke was nearly ready to strangle Sakura and Ino. He hadn't known that missing a mere ten minutes of sleep could make such a difference, but usually he could just ignore them, a task that seemed currently impossible. A throbbing headache rose every time they started talking.

Lunch. Naruto bounced over with his messy homemade bento box, Kiba following and laughing along with the blonde at some joke he was cracking. Sakura wrinkled her nose at their arrival, but had long learned tot tolerate Naruto- he was far too stubborn to simply go away. Anyway, his and Sasuke's rivalry-friendship had been going on since they were 12 (or younger?) so it was far too late to interfere any more.

Half the twittering fangirls had departed. Sasuke didnt' particularly care where to or why; he was too busy being relieved that the noise level had been lowered accordingly. Well, that is, until Naruto arrived. And was currently arguing with Sakura.

"Idiot! Why don't you just go over there then and leave Sasuke-kun alone!"

"Who are you kidding?! Why don't you and Ino leave the poor teme alone and go make out with each _other _or something?"

"WHAT?" both girls screeched. The pain flashed behind his eyes.

"Hey, hey, Shikamaru said it first, not me!" Naruto protested. The chased him around the classroom anyway. The dobe ended up with his face pounded into the floor.

There was one thing Sasuke had learned from Naruto.

No matter how annoying they might be, do not underestimate girls.

They returned from beating Naruto looking smug and took their seats either side of Sasuke. Naruto followed them, wincing, and sat back down backwards in his seat to continue inhaling his bento. Kiba jabbed him in the side of the head with a finger and they bickered.

"Aren't you eating, Sasuke-kun?" Ino asked, all concern and innocence. "You can have some of my bento if you want." she suggested.

"No." Lord save him from fawning girls.

"Sasuke-teme never eats. He's anorexic. That's why he's so weak!" Naruto boasted. Another catfight ensued. Sasuke reflected that Naruto really should stop pissing off the fangirls. He'd never get rid of them that way.

The little pod of un'trained girls who had run off during lunchtime returned, conversing at an even faster pace than they had been before. One of them was half-holding another up.

"Mei!" Sakura and Ino rushed over to the crowd, practically interrogating them. Sasuke ignored it. He vaguely wondered, now that he had enough respite from the noise for the headache to recede, where Haku was. He usually came over to eat lunch with them- he had even said he'd meet them here.

Naruto was apparently thinking along the same lines, because he immediately headed over to class 1-B as soon as they got out of science lab at the end of the day. Sasuke followed him more out of curiosity and an excuse to get out of Orochimaru's class quickly than any real desire to follow Naruto.

"Hakuuuu!" Naruto yelled as he bounce through the door. Haku looked up and smiled- the redhead beside him looked up-

His eyes were cold, spoke of death and some unspeakable reason oh gods _why_- like _his_. Like _Itachi's_, especially right before he'd left, right after he'd gotten the mangekyo sharingan and-

Sasuke masked his shock as fast as he could, bit down on the scream in his throat. Both Haku and redhead had noticed, though.

Redhead stood, gathering his bag onto his back. It looked heavy, full. Not like books, either. He brushed past Sasuke and Naruto, not touching them, as if they weren't there. An angry red scar on his forehead formed the kanji 'love.'

"What was _that_?" Naruto exploded as soon as the door swung closed.

"What? You mean Gaara?" Trust Haku not to be bothered with even something as creepy as that. After all, Zabuza, that guy Haku lived with, wasn't exactly on the right side of the law. A more shady version of the mercenary version of 'trained.

"Yeah! What was up with him?! And why weren't you at lunch today?"

"Umn... well, I was a bit worried about leaving Gaara alone, actually. If I'm not mistaken, it was Sasuke's fangirls who came and visited during lunch-" (Sasuke twitched) "And there was a rather direct death threat, so I thought I'd just stick around, since our teacher isn't 'trained and all..."

"Death threat? Teme gives those out all the time."

""Mm-hm." Haku examined a bit of his hair as he finger-combed it. "There was a lot more intent behind it that Sasuke usually gives. Well, he'll probably be transferred soon, so you'll be able to see for yourself."

"What? No, that guy's creepy!" Naruto yelped. "You keep him, Haku!"

Haku slid out of the desk, grabbing his books. "No can-do, Naruto-kun. He's not even bothering to hide that he's 'trained. You'll have him by Friday."

"I'm gonna die!" Naruto sobbed, rather dramatic for someone who had brushed off a death threat as something Sasuke gave out all the time.

"There there." Haku said sympathetically, patting Naruto's blonde spikes. "Got to go. Zabuza-sama will be waiting on me." He breezed out the door.

"Aw, man! No way! Ha-kuu!" Naruto ran after the dark-haired boy. Sasuke made out a "See ya, teme!" echoing from outside the door. He rolled his eyes and went out himself, intent simply on getting to his locker and getting home. No more girls, no more redheads.

His locker jammed when he tried to open it. Sasuke considered simply undoing the hinges and being done with it, but that just went to show what a Monday with a headache could do to you. He slapped it openhanded and tried again; it popped open smoothly. Stupid piece of locker junk... Sasuke absently stopped the avalanche with his foot again, tossing his unneeded books in and extricating one he'd need for homework.

"Messy as always, otouto."

Almost instantly, Sasuke had slammed the locker door and whirled around on pure instinct. Itachi was less than four feet away, eyes cold and detached but still amused. No. No no no no no, he didn't want to deal with two in one day.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mm? Wouldn't you like to know."

Damn him. What reason would Itach have for coming to the high school? He was 22 to Sasuke's 15; he attended _college_ now, didn't he? Sasuk didn't really keep track- Itachi had left the family at 16, leaving a 9-year-old Sasuke confused and quite, quite alone in the nefarious grasp of the Uchiha's. He hadn't realized why Itachi would _want_ to leave until after he'd left.

Itachi's hand was at his neck, on his face (oh god you're going to die. No, not by this bastard, I'll kill him first- he left me).

"You aren't well, otouto. Go home."

And Itachi was gone. Just like that. Sasuke couldn't find any trace of him having been there, other than the touch burning on his skin. Helpless. He had been powerless before Itachi.

Sasuke went home in a muddled rage, nearly dizzy from the confusion and whirling headache. He bypassed the house entirely, pulled out the shuriken lining his bag, and proceeded to decimate the training dummies lining the yard. Each one had Itachi's face.

He didn't realize the time that had passed until it was nearly nine, his father was home, and his sweat was cold on his skin. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, cold on the outside and too warm on the inside, and his headache returned to pulse through his skull with each heartbeat.

Meaningless.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: ... Heh. High school AU. I'm gonna have far too much fun with this one. It's kind of a conglomeration of a bunch of roleplays I've done with my sister, so I'll just do my best to make it hang together. (feed me pairings)


	2. Chapter 2

Criminal Insanity

Warnings: Okay, so Itachi might be a bit softened. Which might be interpreted as OOC. But... I plead the AU clause, which says: My universe, my manipulations. Muahahaha...

Disclaimer: Still don't own it. Probably never will. My Akatsuki cloak plans are being thwarted as well... Damn.

Other: Still need pairing ideas...

Spellcheck of the Day: Kankurou- Cancer

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

"'Tachi!"

"Oi, Itachi!"

"You're here! MOST EXCELLENT!" The flurry of greetings bemused him; usually the club members were not so eager to welcome him (save for one Rock Lee, but that boy was an exception to almost every rule Itachi could think of. And Itachi could think of a lot of rules.)

"And to what do I owe this enthusiasm?"

Itachi couldn't be said to _like_ Drama club; it was simply part of a quest to be part of every club the school had to offer. Which, in turn, was merely an excuse to be able to continue to visit the high school, nearly four years after graduating. It was such a pain that his little brother was so much younger than him.

"We have gained a new member to add to our BEAUTIFUL DRAMA!" Lee cried. Literally. He usually calmed down after the first 20 minutes of a meeting- with notable exceptions. Itachi hoped for his attention span's sake that this was not one of those times. Watching Lee was like watching a train wreck happen- most people couldn't tear their eyes away from the horror.

Itachi, however, had no interest in train wrecks. What interested him was the moments _before_ the train wreck, the dawning realization, apprehension, terror. Once the actual event began to occur, he couldn't care less.

"Yeah, yeah!" Tenten was, to the best of knowledge, only in Drama because she had been part of a formal 'training group with Lee. Thus, she was also resistant enough to the enthusiasm to add to it. "Kankurou-kuun!" she yelled, stamping her foot and looking around for the errant 'new guy.'

Itachi hoped for the new guy's sake that he was 'trained. About a month into the school year, Lee had driven off all the freshmen in the club who weren't 'trained. (In other words, all the freshmen.) Accidentally, of course. Lee blamed their lack of youthful enthusiasm.

So did the club sponsor, who was, oddly but appropriately enough, the boy's gym teacher, Maito Gai. "YOSH! AND WHO IS THIS NEW FLOWER IN OUR SPRINGTIME OF YOUTH?" Gai had somehow gotten hold of the hapless newbie and was clasping his hand, looking him up and down adoringly. Itachi found out why when he got a glimpse of the kid's face, which was decorated with elaborate swirls of purple face paint.

"Kankurou-kun." Hyuuga Neji calmly pried Gai off of Kankurou, who looked immediately relieved. "Kankurou-kun, this is Gai-sensei. Yes, he's always like this."

"Ah... right." Kankurou said, eying Gai still with mistrust.

"Kankurou-kun transferred- or moved?" Tenten looked to Kankurou for confirmation, who nodded. "Right, he moved here from Suna! So, is this permanent?"

"Yeah, probably." Kankurou said. He looked less ruffled now that Gai was further away.

"Kankurou-kun! I am most sincerely sorry to interrupt, but I would like to introduce you to our honorary senior member, Itachi-san!"

"Honorary senior member?"

"Yeah, well, he is in, what, his..." Tenten trailed off.

"Senior year of college." Neji supplied.

"Sankyuu."

Itachi thought that for all that Neji was usually a block of stone to rival himself, his sense of timing and precise speech did make him a perfect member for the drama club. Too bad he was only here under threat from Tenten and Lee.

"Then if you don't mind me asking, why are you here?" Kankurou inquired. He flinched when his eyes met Itachi's, but held the gaze evenly. Hm. Most people disliked looking Itachi in the eye, even when (as now) they were velvet black, not the hypnotic spinning Sharingan.

"We don't ask." One of the other students in the club, and un'trained upperclassman, spoke up from a corner where she was previously reading a book (and thus sparing herself the attentions of Gai or Lee).

"Yeah, all we ever get is, 'It was recommended.'" Tenten actually did a fairly good imitation of Itachi's tone. Maybe it was the drama. Or, more likely, just an effect of being around Neji for a great amount of her life. The Hyuuga could deadpan pretty well when he chose to.

"Ah." Kankurou looked at Tenten, breaking off from the staring contest with Itachi. Itachi sensed his relief, mostly hidden but still there.

"So, Kankurou-kun! Do you have a specialty?" Lee asked, all sparkles.

"Umn... well, yeah, actually."

"YOSH! Please, show us this most excellent specialty of yours!" Gai appeared again. Kankurou flinched (a good reflex to have around Gai).

"All right." he said hesitantly. He let his backpack fall to the floor and pulled out a wooden rag doll of some sort, its joints clicking. He stepped back, and suddenly the doll jerked up into a standing position. It waved cheerily at Gai, then clacked its way over to Tenten, moving almost as smoothly as a real person.

"Sugoi!" Tenten crouched down to examine it, unmindful of her skirt hiking up her thighs.

"How are you doing it?" One of the civilian students asked, looking on in awe. Of course. They couldn't see the chakra strings that ran, bright blue and clear as day to Itachi, from Kankurou's fingers to the doll's limbs.

"He's 'trained." Tenten said. Her tone added, 'Isn't it _obvious_?'

"A puppet master?" Itachi inquired. Kankurou's eyes darted to him; he nodded slowly. Wary. Somehow, he was more put off by Itachi's aura than reassured by his good looks. Interesting. Why was he so sensitive to the sinister nature of his chakra? Even with Itachi's usual shielding on it.

"Yeah. What do you mean by 'trained?"

The question came as a surprise- how could anyone be 'trained and not know it? Itachi narrowed his eyes in thought. Surely Suna wasn't so far behind as to use-

"Is that like a shinobi?"

Oh for– Suna _was_ that behind. Not in talent, plainly, but language-wise... How archaic.

Lee and Tenten were staring at him in confusion; Neji shook his head in despair, whether at their lack of knowledge or Kankurou's.

"Konoha and Fire Country haven't used 'shinobi' since at least half a century ago. Shinobi, ninja, kunoichi- it's all outdated now." Neji said.

"...Ah. That's gonna take a while to get used to."

"MOST MARVELOUS!" Gai broke out, ending the awkward moment before it could really begin. "Let us induct Kankurou-kun into our modern world of youthfulness! SKIT TIME!"

Even Itachi couldn't stop the immediate internal "Oh, shit," reaction.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Sasuke hadn't been to school today. Itachi had no way of knowing this from the day, since he was busy attending college classes, but the lock on his locker was still on the exact same number it had been on after Sasuke stomped away yesterday. Sasuke always twirled it after he closed it- so it hadn't been opened that day.

Hmph. The fool must have really gotten himself sick, to stay home from school. And he was probably in denial about it all the way. If those parents weren't careful, he would end up coming to school tomorrow, sick or not.

Itachi frowned. And they probably _wouldn't_ be careful, would they. Oh no, Sasuke was an _Uchiha_, and therefore should go to school, should continue working, as soon as possible. Uchihas were perfection, and perfection did not pause for weakness. The idiots. Itachi had been there, he had been pushed, sometimes harder than any of them. He had pushed himself, nearly beyond human capability, he had been (was) the closest to perfection any of them had gotten.

Perfect enough to realize that their ideal was actually naive, stupid, not achievable. That to stay there meant to continue to be pushed, and eventually to lose his mind. He had been on the edge of that, hating them all. It had driven him to achieve the Mangekyo Sharingan, but the repercussions of actually gaining it- killing his closest friend, his only friend in the clan- had driven him away. He left, just like that, and the relief from the expectations, the admonitions, the pressure of the clan had saved his sanity. He only knew afterwards how close a call it had been.

He wanted to make sure Sasuke was spared from that hell. He used to be so adorable, before Itachi left, before the perceived betrayal and the new weight of the clan's expectations turned him into the silent, brooding teen he was now. Itachi could see it in his eyes by now, the beginning of the psychosis, the perfection. It was different for Sasuke; he didn't resent it, he had brainwashed himself to perfection in his quest to catch up to Itachi, long before the clan turned on him. But it was beginning to turn, to the insanity, the willingness to do absolutely _anything_.

And because Sasuke wasn't Itachi, he hadn't soared straight up into the ranks of perfection among the 'trained by age seven, he couldn't _see_. Even having finally achieved the Sharingan in his rivalry with the blonde, he couldn't see what was being done to him, see to the heart of the 'perfection' and find it impossible as Itachi had. One could believe oneself perfect... But you never really were.

Ah well. Foolish little brother. Itachi would just have to show him. Wasn't that what older brothers were for?

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Kankurou returned home from the Drama club meeting (he'd actually been abducted for it by one Rock Lee, who had seized him apparently both because he was new and on account of his face paint) slightly worn out. Which sucked, because they were still working on unpacking their stuff, trying to get locks installed on the cupboard doors, and managing to get something to eat all at the same time.

Temari was talking to the lock man right now. Or at least, whatever kind of person you talked to in order to get locks installed.

"Yes, for the cupboards. I need this done before Friday. What? No! Umn, just a minute." She put her hand over her cell phone mouthpiece and leaned around the kitchen door. "Kankurou! Help me count the cabinets!"

"What?" He went into the kitchen, bewildered.

"Get the bottom!" she hissed. He counted, hurriedly. One, two, three... seven separate doors. They had some serious cabinet space in here.

"Seven doors." he announced.

"Okay, good." She went back to the phone. "All right, we've got 16 that we need done. Oh, and who can I talk to about getting a lock on the refrigerator?"

"I told you we should have just brought the old one."

She mouthed, 'Shut up!' at him with a glare. "Mm-hm. Yes, I'm perfectly serious. Look, why do you want to know? Do you care if we lock our food up?'

Woo, this person was really annoying Temari. Kankurou debated tiptoing away, but she'd probably just get more pissed. He lounged against the counter, which was littered with half-empty boxes of kitchenware, in the meantime.

"Where's Gaara?"

She pointed up. The roof, then.

Finally she hung the phone up with a frustrated sigh. "God, I fucking hate people. I say next time Gaara wants to kill one, let him."

"Wow." Kankurou raised an eyebrow. "What's got _your_ panties in a twist?"

"Shut up. I swear that guy on the phone was hitting on me. He doesn't even know what I _look_ like! Is that desperate or what? He's obviously a civilian, too."

"Well, it's kind of hard to tell you're a shinobi over the phone, nee-chan."

"Don't call me that, you idiot. I'll stay home tomorrow; they're coming around noon."

"Okay." Kankurou wandered across the hall to the living room. Empty boxes littered the floor, but the couch, rug, TV, and video stand were all set up already. "Hey, who got the living room set up?" he called.

"Gaara." Temari appeared behind him. "He took his boxes up, set up the living room just like that, said we could take care of the videos, and went out to the roof."

"Wow." Kankurou said again. He looked behind the TV set. "I'm impressed. I didn't know he even knew how to hook this stuff up."

"Well, it's not like he could electrocute himself or anything." Temari huffed. "He was holding the wires apart with sand. Now come help me unpack the kitchen."

"Hai, hai." Kankurou followed her back to the other room. A box was thrust into his hands. "What's this?"

"Your room has a lock on it, right? Hide that."

"...Sharp stuff?"

"No, pillows and towels. Completely harmless. What do you _think_ it is?"

"You know he can just get kunai pretty easily, right?"

"You know he won't 'cause he's a freak, right?" she retorted. Kankurou assented (what else could he do?) and went to hide the kitchen implements in his room.

"So did you see Gaara at all during school?" he asked once back in the kitchen, helping Temari pull plates out of their padded boxes.

"Nope. But there's nobody dead or injured, that I can tell, so maybe he's doing better."

"Pff. We can hope."

Gaara came down around dinnertime, glanced at the food, and went up the half-flight of stairs into his room. Kankurou looked at Temari, who sighed.

They could hope.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

"'Ey, teme. What's wrong with _you_?"

Sasuke glared at Naruto in the split second he had before he was besieged by girls. Augh. This was what he got for getting to school at this hour (damn it all- _Naruto _had gotten here before him? What the hell was up with that?)

"Touch me and I swear you a painful death." he said, his voice rough and scratchy from the cough he'd been suppressing all morning. Damn, damn, damn. There weren't enough curse words to express his frustration with this situation. He'd apparently- horror of horrors- _slept _through his alarm. Or by some reflex hit the snooze button, since it had rung again to wake him up. Sasuke _never_ used the snooze button. He hadn't even known his clock _had_ one. And to top it all off, today was Wednesday. Wednesday! Where the hell had Tuesday gone? He remembered being tired, being sick (blasphemy), but not much else, and apparently he'd slept right _through_ Tuesday.

Okay, so he was obsessing. So sue him. Sasuke didn't miss school. Particularly Tuesdays, as they were the longest and most important days of the week. And how had he managed to come in late on a Wednesday? School didn't start until 10:30!

The girls had drawn back, giving Sasuke some much-needed space, and he ignored the questions they threw at him.

He only noticed it as he moved toward his seat in the back- there, in the corner, was the redhead from Monday. Watching. Him. Pale green eyes unblinking, still thickly lined in black.

The itching in the back of his throat started, and he focused on fighting it down rather than figuring out what (if anything) to do about the Suna 'trained being in their class now.

Naruto put his hands on Sasuke's desk, leaning down and peering at him critically as Sasuke sat down. Whatever biting comment he could make was lost because he was afraid he'd start coughing if he started to talk.

"Sasuke..." No 'teme?' "Are you- sick?"

Immediately there was a flurry of consternation and concern among the girls.

"It's nothing... dobe." He kept his words tight, hating the way they irritated his throat and made suppression harder.

"Interesting as I'm sure Sasuke's desk is, I'd appreciate it if you all would get back to your own desks so that we can get started." Iruka's voice cut through the chatter. Sasuke praised some benevolent God.

Homeroom passed slowly, as usual. Announcements about various clubs and events were made. Sasuke paid no attention; making his usual front of paying attention was enough.

Passing period. There was less time today, since the math teacher was not likely to be late like Kakashi.

"Sasuke-kun!" Ino and Sakura lead the chorus. "Are you okay? Where were you yesterday?"

"Haku!" Naruto's usual shout of greeting rang out.

"What's going on?" Haku asked. "Sasuke's back?"

The girls put up _their_ usual chatter of ownership. Sasuke wished more of them would be like Hinata- _quiet_ and uninterested- or at least like a few of the saner un'trained girls, who generally avoided him or treated him like any other boy.

"Oh, shush." Haku tsked. "Amanda wants to talk to you."

And just like that, half of them (Sakura and Ino included) were gone. The others drew away from Haku, shy of the little group of 'trained that was gathering. Kiba had followed Naruto over, and Haku was leaning over Sasuke's desk, eying him much as Naruto had.

"You're sick." Haku said. Crap. Unlike Naruto, Haku sounded quite sure of himself.

"I am not." Sasuke said indignantly.

Haku's cool hand rested on his forehead briefly, making Sasuke flinch away. "You're sick." he repeated. "You shouldn't even be here with a fever like that."

Sasuke glared and Haku rolled his eyes. "I'm _fine_." he reiterated.

"Sure, sure... if you get sicker, though, don't blame me. Naruto, keep him out of gym for me, okay?"

"Sure thing, Haku." Naruto smirked at Sasuke. Crap He was going to enjoy this far too much.

"Ne, Gaara!" Haku slipped past Sasuke's desk and settled onto the one next to Gaara's. "How do you like this class?"

"..." Gaara seemed to regard Haku as something alien, something which he was not quite sure what to do about. Sasuke knew that feeling; it was the one he'd gotten when he first met Naruto and was then consequently introduced to Haku. Naruto was the first anomaly in Sasuke's experience of dealing with people; he was constantly up to something, always trying, and he never seemed to give up once he was set on something, whether it was a near-impossible prank or simply trying to get Sasuke to enter a conversation.

Haku was the second; his simple, consuming devotion to the man he lived with was something that Sasuke had trouble understanding. Eventually, he'd given up understanding- the closest Sasuke got to devotion was his obsessive hatred of Itachi. And even that he wouldn't admit.

This guy, though, this Gaara, seemed less like an anomaly; more like Naruto and Haku were the anomalies for him as well. Sasuke found himself focusing more on Gaara's short non-conversation with Haku, rather than Naruto and Kiba's admittedly rather inane discussion. Even though their focus was on mocking Sasuke.

Haku departed with a wave and his usual promise to see them at lunch, just before the bell rang again and the math teacher entered the room.

After math was lunch, since the day started so late. Naruto sat two desks away from Sasuke, rather than practically eating on his desk as he usually did. Sasuke raised an eyebrow at this. Typically, Naruto insisted on annoying him as much as possible.

"Whatever you have, teme, I don't wanna get infected." Naruto said. Oh. Hmph. Like the idiot would actually manage to catch even a cold anyway. He was too dumb to get sick.

Haku did show up today, unlike Monday, taking Naruto's usual seat right in front of Sasuke. He shook his head at usual at Sasuke for not eating. Sasuke had snapped at Sakura and Ino when they offered him lunch, and they had retreated for once, to his great relief.

"Ne, so now we've got two anorexics." Haku sighed. Sasuke automatically followed his gaze, which lead him to Gaara, who was, indeed, not eating. Actually, he seemed to be- Sasuke turned away quickly when his eyes met green. Oh, hell- he was _staring_ at him. He could feel the gaze on him, now that he knew it was there, and why the hell hadn't he noticed it earlier? Was the guy really that good, or was Sasuke really that out of it?

You two're gonna die of hunger'r something." Naruto mumbled, managing to speak while still inhaling his food (as always).

"No, Sasuke eats. You told me so yourself." Both of them looked accusingly at Gaara now.

"I fail to see how my eating habits became a topic for public discussion." Gaara spoke deliberately, as though choosing each of his words. Kind of the way Sasuke did around his father.

"Yare, yare." Haku sighed. "It's not public. It's me and Naruto. Now, Sasuke's anorexia..."

Naruto snorted. "Oh, yeah, that's public. Hey, hey, did you know they've got some sort of contest going for who can get you to accept a lunch first? Ever since you stopped bringing one. Why did you stop, anyway? That's so unfair, I mean, now I have to make my _own_ lunch, and..."

Sasuke let his head drop to the desk in frustration. Screw Uchiha pride. He couldn't handle listening to Naruto gripe at him for the rest of lunch.

The bell woke him up, causing him to curse in shock. What the hell? Had he actually just fallen asleep in the middle of the day?

"You really shouldn't have come to school today, Sasuke." Haku chided him. Sasuke glared, rubbing his eyes, which were scratchy and dry. Haku rolled his eyes at him and gathered his stuff up to go back to his class.

"C'mon, people, it's gym time!" Kiba and Naruto were pestering Shikamaru, who was, as ever, completely unenthusiastic about the one class that actually heavily involved the use of their 'training. Sasuke, for once, found himself agreeing with that sentiment. His chakra was low and dim, which hadn't been helping the faint nausea or scratchy throat at all. Probably a good bit of it was going into keeping his symptoms as mild as they were.

He dragged out behind Sakura and Ino, who were each latched onto one of his arms and impervious to his glares. More unnerving than that was the continued gaze of the Gaara kid, which was probably by default, as he was right behind Sasuke, but freaky anyway.

Gai-sensei, the teacher for the 'trained this period, was enthusiastic as ever.

"Yosh! Are we all assembled? We shall begin this period with laps! Twenty of them! Let's get changed! Go, go, go!"

"Troublesome..." Shikamaru muttered.

Sasuke's plan (or rather Haku's admonishment) to take it easy was mutilated twice that period- first when Naruto and Kiba dragged him into their high-speed race of the twenty laps (Sasuke wasn't about to remind Naruto that this was the exact opposite of what Haku had told him to do), then when Gai announced that instead of the basketball unit they were working on (usually Sasuke regarded this as useless- sports were only light exercise for those who had been 'trained) they would be sparring. For once, Sasuke wished Gai had stuck to the lesson plan. Not that he ever really did.

He was paired up with Hinata, which would prove at once fortunate and slightly unlucky.

"I want you to battle with all of the fire of your burning youth! You may stop only when your enemy is incapacitated and cannot fight any longer! Remember; incapacitated- do not attempt to kill your opponent, as this will dim the brightness of our companionship and love!"

The rest of their teachers were really going to hate Gai. Half their class had high possibilities of being unconscious now.

Hinata was nervous at first, until Gai shouted his enthusiastic, "BEGIN!" She slipped into her stance at the same time Sasuke took his, activating her Byakugan. Damnit... Sasuke focused, and felt the familiar stinging sensation of the Sharingan emerging. He could feel his chakra drop another notch. Difficult, he figured, but Hinata was- holy shit, Hinata was taking the offensive.

It was only thanks to the Sharingan that he managed to avoid her first two attacks, his body heavy and making his movements rough and slow. He knocked her away with a kick to the gut, managed to kawarimi with one of the training dummies that Gai always littered the room with for that purpose, sent a series of small fireballs her way.

Then his chakra stuttered and died, and Hinata hit his arm with a Jyuuken strike before she froze. She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously sharpening her Byakugan image, and Sasuke realized that if he was paired with anyone else, he would have been screwed- they wouldn't have been able to tell.

His eyes watered as they turned back from the Sharingan. The irritation seemed to not only be in his throat anymore; his lungs were constricted, barely able to breathe with out setting off the coughing. He didn't succeed in suppressing it this time, and couldn't seem to stop once he'd started, each breath setting him off again.

"Sasuke-kun!" Hinata said, sounding at once irritated and concerned. He managed to stop coughing before he gagged, and found that the simultaneous battle going on between Ino and Shino had stopped as both of them stared at him, Ino shocked and worried, Shino impassive. The rest of the class, who had been shuttled to the bleachers until their turn, were staring as well.

"Hinata!" Ino said. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"I-I didn't do anything!" Hinata protested. "You should have sat out if your chakra was that low, Sasuke-kun."

"What's the matter?" Gai whirled into their midst, looking from Hinata to Sasuke.

"Nothi–" His throat caught on the word and sent him into coughing again.

"Damnit, teme, Haku said it, I knew it was true!" Naruto marched down from the bleachers, pointing accusingly. "You're sick."

"Shut up." Sasuke rasped. That from somebody who had disbelieved it enough to jibe him into racing?

"Alas!" Gai wailed. "It is most disgraceful of me to not have noticed that one of my students was not in the prime of health!"

"I didn't actually notice it either, until I started focusing on his chakra system." Hinata admitted.

"Sasuke-kuun!" Sakura and Ino were suddenly smothering him. "Are you okay? Do you want to lie down? Do you have a fever?"

"Will you just go the fuck away?" he demanded. They drew back, shocked. "I'm _fine_!" He paused to suppress the cough. "Leave me alone."

"Go sit down, you dumbass." Naruto said. "Don't kill yourself. What would I tell Haku?"

"You're-" (cough) "helpful." Sasuke muttered, following Naruto's orders only because he would have anyway.

He found himself next to Gaara, who regarded him with the same intense stare that had so reminded him of Itachi before. In his current state it was almost comforting, rather than freaky or unnerving- like when Itachi had visited his room once when he was younger, and sick; just sat there and stared in such a single-minded way that it made him feel like he could trust that Itachi would never leave, that he could fall asleep and wake up and someone would still be there.

So Sasuke simply stared back this time, glazed, slightly irritated that the _transfer student_ could make him remember his childhood, before Itachi left.

"Gaara and Shikamaru!" Gai called. "Why don't you take the place of Sasuke and our lovely Hinata?"

Sasuke watched the side of Gaara's mouth quirk up in a parody of a smirk. He pulled his backpack up onto the seat next to him and unzipped it before walking down the stairs, taking his time almost as much as Shikamaru. Sasuke's glazed state made it about a minute before he registered- was that _sand_ sifting leisurely out of the bag?

Gai called, "Begin!" and directly afterwards there were twin shrieks from Sakura and Ino as the sand exploded out of the bag and raced to the battlefield. It took Sasuke another moment to realize that the shrieks had been more because the bag had been right next to _him_ than simply because of the sand itself.

When he bothered to regard the gym floor again, Shikamaru was dodging pounces by the sand- not excessively successfully, either. He obviously had not managed to capture Gaara in his kagemane no jutsu- or perhaps it wouldn't have mattered, as Gaara was standing with his arms crossed, not moving. The sand wrapped around Shikamaru's ankle and within seconds, he was concealed save for his head.

"Ah, damnit..." could be heard. Judging by the way he had gone limp, though, Shikamaru didn't actually much care about this outcome- typical.

Gaara's little half-sneer was present again as Gai congratulated him and the sand unwrapped from Shikamaru and flew back to the backpack. Then he was there again, zipping up the bag and staring blatantly back at Sasuke.

Sasuke had been drained before, with nearly no chakra, but being drained and being drained and _sick_ were two different things. He decided he almost like it, the laid-back, easy way the world seemed to flow around him. Sure, there were nasty surprises when people and time seemed to jump (he'd lost track of them) but if it weren't for the return of the throbbing headache and the cough, ti would be quite pleasant on the whole.

Haku came in at break time, looked at him exasperatedly, and proceeded to scold him about overdoing it in gym class and you-shouldn't-even-have-come-to-school-today, and if it weren't Haku it would have been blah, blah, blah. But it was Haku, and therefore Sasuke half-listened to his scolding, and only really drifted off when Haku rolled his eyes and hugged him around the shoulders, sighing.

"I give up."

Finally the day was over. Naruto volunteered to help him to his locker, which immediately set off the girls. Girls, Sasuke was fairly sure, was something that even in his present dreamy state he would not be able to handle. He told them to fuck off- something that Naruto said often enough, but Sasuke had never lowered himself to use. It was effective, though- they recoiled and chattered and left him alone. Naruto gave him a thumbs up and a, "Way to go, Sasuke!"

Sasuke was just closing his locker and turned around when- for the second time, goddamnit!- there was Itachi. Three feet away this time, and with his hand on his hip and that close fitting t-shirt over ripped fishnets, he rather looked a lot like a girl. Sasuke frowned.

"You're sick." Itachi said.

"You're in the way." Sasuke rasped.

Itachi didn't move. Sasuke glared.

"You're sick." Itachi repeated. Sasuke twitched. Why did everybody feel the need to point out that fact time and time again? If he were more lucid, he'd count up every single time it'd been said and he'd bet good money it came up to ten at least by now– something cool was against his cheek. Itachi. Touching him. Again! Without warning the coughing caught and started again- damn it- and Sasuke turned away to avoid the way Itachi was simply _looking_ at him, so impassive.

When he had it under control and looked up, he found himself snared in Itachi's Sharingan. Oh, fuck no- and then Itachi whispered something suspiciously like "Sleep..." and he was out.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: Fricking monster of a chapter. Over twice as long as the last one- I hope it makes up a bit for it being a long wait. However, I really wouldn't ever expect anything different. I'm exceedingly sorry, but I do have a life, and with the end of school and training for a 1600 plus mile bike trip... you get the picture.

Ah! At this point I would like to give credit where credit is due and was forgotten to give previously- inspiration for this pairing comes from 'Of Brothers and Lovers' by Jedi.Vixen. Her fic with this pairing is completely AMAZING, and I would advise you to read it. Other than the pairing, though, this is _completely_ different from hers, and really in no way based upon it. Just to clear that up.

So, I'm getting together a couple of other pairings I want to do... Some of them are kind of crack, and I take KakaIru for granted. Mostly, what I need is pairings for Naruto. GIVE ME NARUTO PAIRINGS, people!! Or he stays single!!!

Thanks for reading and putting up with Kyoui, darlings!


	3. Chapter 3

Criminal Insanity

**Disclaimer**: Well... I own a Gaara shirt and a 'Save the Lemons' shirt, but no Akatsuki cloak yet... And I have to pay for a camera 'cause I broke the family's old one... So that might set that back a bit. (sweatdrop) Oh! And I don't own the Naruto characters. I just mess with their heads.

**Warnings**: ... For this chapter? Not sure. Other than Itachi OOC. If you're a hard-core OOC basher, anyhow. I did preserve the basics of his character... By now I'm quite sure you all know the story warnings... So I'm not repeating them.

**Spellcheck of the Day**: Kisame- Cesium. (O.o??)

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Itachi simply could not believe those so-called parents- never mind that he might have done much the same once upon a time. As soon as Sasuke professed to be able to go to school, they let him. And see what happened because of that? Falling into even Itachi's sharingan hypnosis that fast was just pathetic. Itachi might be the best, but still, Sasuke was an Uchiha as well; he had built-in resistance.

He shook his head at the limp form of his brother in his arms. It wasn't just sickness- there was definitely evidence of chakra exhaustion as well. Had some idiot been making them train?

"What are you doing with Sasuke?" The voice was low, quiet, naturally threatening. Either Itachi had been preoccupied enough or he had been quiet enough- Itachi hadn't noticed the kid's approach.

Itachi turned to face him, eyes still set in sharingan, pulling Sasuke up over his shoulder- undignified, but it left one of his arms free, which would be essential if the pale, green-eyed redhead before him decided to attack.

"Taking him home, eventually." Itachi said, keeping his gaze evenly locked with the other's. Black lining the yes set them apart from the face, lightened and hardened the blank blue-green of the irises. Itachi was mesmerized instantly- not enough to throw off his senses or thought processes, but enough to recognize a beauty too menacing for many to truly appreciate.

The eyes narrowed in a glare. "Your name?"

"Uchiha Itachi." Itachi did not hesitate- it was Sasuke's little idiosyncrasy to challenge people over simply giving his name, and Itachi considered it rather foolish. He could always find out someone's name easily enough without the silliness of demanding it.

"I know you. Kankurou told us about you."

Kankurou? Oh, so this was another part of the family from Suna- and if Itachi wasn't mistaken, part of the reason why Kankurou held Itachi's stare as long as he did.

"Mm. I hope he did not reflect too badly on me."

He was making the kid nervous, he could tell. The narrowed eyes, crossed arms, the tenseness he could read in every tiny muscle of the body. Ah, but of course- he still had the sharingan on. Well, too bad- he wasn't about to turn it off just yet, not when he could practically see the chakra shifting around the boy. It might not have the penetrating capabilities of the byakugan, but Itachi was the best, and he could ben the sharingan abilities much more than most could.

Itachi decided, however, that this was not something he wanted an unconscious Sasuke mixed up in- particularly a sick, unconscious Sasuke. He could feel the fever heat against his shoulder and neck and where he rested a steadying hand on Sasuke's back. The murderous intent was a sharp tang of blood to his senses, exhilarating his own instincts; even his chakra reacted to it. And here he thought there was nothing sinister enough to set off Uchiha cursed chakra.

Setting his interest aside, he inclined his head maybe a millimeter, and brushed past the boy, feeling the malevolent intent of those eyes follow him.

He was later to theater than usual, and consequently had to avoid Lee, who launched himself at Itachi with a repeated, "You're here! You're here!"

"Itachi-san..." Neji came up from behind him. "Is that Sasuke?"

"Mm-hm." Itachi replied. Even Gai looked at him oddly.

"Umn, Itachi?" Tenten asked. "Why do you have Sasuke with you?"

"Because I'm taking him home with me."

"Then why is he unconscious?"

"Because he hates me."

"Then you want him around... why?" Kankurou looked up from what looked like the leg of a much larger puppet than the one he'd had Monday, which he was bent over with a screwdriver.

Itachi didn't answer that one. He'd told them enough, particularly considering that the congregation included more than just the 'trained students that Itachi could trust more. He laid Sasuke aside in the corner, propping him against somebody's backpack. Hopefully he wouldn't wake up until after the meeting was over, as he would then doubtlessly kick up a fuss.

...Hell, he would kick up a fuss anyway when he found out that Itachi was in the high school drama club. He would freak even more when he found himself at Itachi's place. Hopefully Kisame wouldn't add to that excitement. Hm. There was one problem with his plan. Itachi had intended to alert his roommate before enacting his 'kidnap Sasuke' operation, but he was on improvisation mode now. He hadn't been able to convince himself otherwise; Sasuke was there, he was sick, their parents were irresponsible idiots, Itachi had been meaning to since Sasuke started high school... ultimately, it had just happened.

Gai had them writing skits; they were competing to see which one would get made into a play. Itachi and Neji were working together; Tenten (working with Kankurou) and Lee led a bunch of the un'trained students in complaining about the unfairness of pairing two geniuses on a competition project. Gai responded (with great enthusiasm and joy) that they would then just have to work harder- "Milk the depths of your youthful imagination!"

Itachi thought that Tenten and Kankurou actually ultimately had more chances of getting a winning piece together than he and Neji did, since both Uchiha and Hyuuga were 'trained clans, and they had been subject to almost outdatedly harsh physical, weapons, and psychological training since they were able. Imaginative? Yes. Geniuses? Yes. Able to write a play, particularly one that un'trained people would be able to perform in? No.

They spent the entire time attempting to get into the head of a civilian or at least a 'trained who was not from a traditional clan, and failed miserably. Itachi had decided that they should skip that and write an artsy piece about the strains of a traditional 'trained clan, and secured Neji's agreement, when Gai announced the meeting over and continuance of the project the next day.

Getting Sasuke home was the easy part. He was fairly light- all muscle and bone, no unnecessary weight anywhere, and not bulky enough to hinder the speed that was one of his greatest advantages. No, it was getting _into _the house that was the problem. Kisame was peering through the window on the door, looking rather disapproving and, judging by the way the handle refused to budge, he had wedged something under it.

"Itachi!" he snapped, pulling the glass down so they could speak through the screen. "I told you, no bringing victims back to the house! You could be tracked!"

"First of all, Kisame, it was originally _my _decree that we don't bring victims back to the house, and that is because yours tend to bleed on the carpet. Second, this isn't a victim, it's my _brother_."

"Yes, well, yours tend to cough blood or vomit sometimes– wait. I thought your brother hated you?"

"That's why I don't bring them home. And he does."

"...Why are you bringing your brother home?"

Itachi was a genius. Next to him, many people got the impression that Kisame was rather slow. Ah, Itachi only _wished_ that Kisame was dumb, dumb enough to _not_ question the things Itachi did. The only people who could get away with actually interrogating Itachi and expecting answers were the members of their rather shady group of mercenaries.

...Okay. He'd admit it. They weren't _slightly_ shady; if they weren't top secret, they'd all be on the top wanted lists for the other 'trained mercenaries and policemen; on the strict do-not-touch list for the civilian enforcers. They were recruited for their destructive power, after all.

"Because I'm kidnapping him and keeping him. Now let me in, Kisame."

"You're doing WHAT?"

"I'm keeping him." Itachi said calmly, shifting Sasuke, now carried bridal style, into a more upright position, to lean against his shoulder. Sasuke's hair tickled his cheek and his burning forehead was nestled against his neck.

"Like hell you're keeping him! _Where_ are you going to keep him?"

"Look, Kisame. He's sick, my _family_ are pompous, perfectionistic, self-destructive _idiots_, and I'm keeping him."

"He's SICK?" Oh joy. Kisame and his bad tendency to catch whatever bug anyone around him had. If he didn't have such a strong constitution, he'd probably be constantly missing class.

"Yes, and I'm going to take _pains_ to transmit said infection to you if you continue to obstruct the door."

"Damnit, Itachi, you could have warned me." Kisame grumbled, unwedging the mace from the door handle. Itachi raised an eyebrow at the weapon. They weren't really living in a 'trained-friendly community, which meant they usually had to keep the sparring and weapons on the down-low. "I was cleaning them." was the explanation.

"Ah. You know, just because I lectured you about it before doesn't mean that I wouldn't have ripped through the screen door if I really wanted in."

"As if the entire door would have stopped you if you _really_ wanted in." Kisame shied away from Itachi as he passed. "Oi, and he stays in your room until he's better!" he shouted as Itachi moved through the living room.

Itachi was faintly tempted to go hug Kisame after he put Sasuke down. But that would involve first of all _touching_ somebody and second of all hugging _Kisame_. Just... no.

He set Sasuke on the bed, and went to go check on Kisame, who had cluttered the entire kitchen with his stash of weapons (usually strategically hidden around the house or on his person).

The table was covered in kunai, the counters littered with shuriken. Samehada sat wrapped in a corner, various other weaponry- knives, a collection of strangely pointy things, a scythe (of all things), and two other maces to match the one Kisame had used to block the door- tucked away, propped against the cabinets. A glittering pile of senbon was scattered around the floor like slightly more predictable broken glass- at least senbon reliably had only two pointy ends.

Itachi raised an eyebrow again. There was no way all of that was Kisame's- Itachi used senbon far more than his roommate, and definitely was the only one to own them in such quantities. Come to think of it, that number of shuriken and kunai were impossible to be Kisame's alone.

"Yeah, I know. Couple of those are yours, too." Kisame was seated on a stool in the middle of the senbon, rubbing each one down with a cloth, which, judging by the smears, tackiness, and the way the weave was obscured, had been dipped or rubbed in copious amounts of cleaning wax. He put it down and gave the needle a quick swipe with an oiled cloth, pointing to the serrated knives as he spoke.

Itachi regarded this madness with some confusion. Why exactly would Kisame be doing such a thing?

Kisame caught his expression (or shadow of it, as Itachi wasn't much given to emoting) and shrugged nervously. "Eh-heh. Well, I got started cleaning my stuff, and then I ran into a stash of your stuff, so it just kind of happened. Happy birthday. Don't expect a present."

"OCD much?" Itachi commented, picking his way among the senbon and other weapons to the refrigerator. He searched through it until he found the half of the pita-hummus-feta sandwich he'd mad earlier (Kisame had laughed at him; Itachi had sent a shuriken whizzing at Kisame's head and left for class) and daintily swerved back over to the door.

He sat on the bed next to Sasuke, simply watching. He was a dark spot in a dark room- Itachi had painted it dark blue. Technically not allowed, but when the landlord complained, Itachi had turned the sharingan on him and convinced him to let it slide. Blatant misuse of the sharingan? Possibly. But at least it was higher class than holding a kunai to his throat.

Sasuke didn't wake, though his fever abated somewhat. Itachi showered, wordlessly stole some of Kisame's fried shrimp and pasta (Kisame didn't bother objecting- he stole Itachi's cooking enough to make it fair, anyway) and went back to slip under the covers next to his younger brother.

The next morning, Kisame labeled him 'infected' and refused to touch him.

Itachi did not complain.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Sasuke didn't quite understand what he managed to process as he came to. He was in a bed- too comfortable to be a hospital bed, too untangled to be his own. The room was dark- both in color and lighting, though there was a lamp on next to him, so definitely not a hospital. Once again, not his own room, either- his parents wouldn't agree to anything darker than the contrasting light blue and burgundy that adorned his walls.

Plus, as his vision grew clearer, it was far too clean. There were no clothes on the floor, no sheets at the foot of the bed; the pillows were all _on_ the bed, and the assortment of accessories (_not_ jewelry, thank you very much) and shirts that tended to end up on his bedside table was conspicuously absent.

Instead, there was a glass of water and what looked like a pain pill. Sasuke took advantage of this, not caring whether it was intended for him or not. He sat up against the wall, noting the curious absence of a headboard of any sort, and dazedly looked around the room while he waited for it to kick in.

He arrived at the conclusion that he had absolutely no clue where he could be. The room was almost perfectly clean; what looked like a closet door was open a crack and a bottle of nail polish (closed) lay on its side on the dresser across from the bed. Other than that, nothing about the room revealed any personality. The lamp on the table next to him was a typical small reading lamp with flexible neck, the dresser and table were of nondescript brown wood. The blankets covering him were of mixed colors; gray, blue, purple. The coverlet was black, with designs that quite honestly looked like they had been drawn on in red fabric paint.

Sasuke touched them curiously. They were. 3-D red fabric paint. All this, however, was getting him nowhere as to the identity of the owner of the room. For that matter, he wasn't getting any closer to figuring out how he'd gotten- wherever he was. Everything after gym class was a little (okay, more than a little) fuzzy. The arm Hinata had hit with jyuuken still wasn't responding properly.

There was a bang and a creak-screech of a door opening and falling closed, and an unfamiliar voice accompanied it.

"Itachi! I got carry-out from that one place on the square. Are you washed? Disinfected? You haven't been in the sick room, have you?"

There was a sigh, and the response in an oh-so-familiar voice, much quieter and therefore muffled by the closed door. "Yes, I'm clean, no, I haven't been in there since I washed up."

Shock, confusion, and mild horror played on repeat through Sasuke's brain. Yet it couldn't acquire the usual disgust or hatred he felt upon reminiscing about his brother or (as seemed to happen occasionally, and more often lately) when he ran into Itachi after school. There was more almost a feel of- resignation? Well, he was in a _house_ with Itachi. Itachi's house? Itachi's _room_? Best not to try to address those issues yet.

He climbed out of the bed slowly, taking a drink of the water to calm the damn irritation that was back to plague him, and wrinkled his nose when he realized he was still in his school uniform. He probably looked a mess. He caught sight of himself in the naked full-length mirror propped against the wall, and, yes, he was paler than usual, his hair was flattened and all over the place, and the clothes were limp and wrinkled.

Ugh. He decided to ignore it for the moment and half-limped over to the door. Why was his body so sore? Oh, probably from the chakra exhaustion after the spar. Well, wasn't that just craptastic.

Sasuke was confronted with a short hallway outside the door, terminating in a dead-end door on one side and leading to Itachi and the unknown voice on the other. He leaned against the corner as he stared at the scene. Itachi was sitting on the floor in front of a rather scruffy-looking couch- it had definitely met with several shuriken grazes and had kunai imbedded in it in its past, and what looked like a vertical cut through half of one of the arms. A big, beady-eyed, blue-skinned man was sitting on said couch, picking through a plastic take-out container with a pair of mismatched chopsticks.

They both seemed to notice Sasuke at once, Itachi glancing up, and th other one following his gaze to stare at Sasuke.

"Ah, so the Sick lives! Hey, wait, Itachi, that's not supposed to be allowed out of your room! It'll get its infection everywhere. And it's most _definitely_ not allowed on the furniture!"

Sasuke frowned. So he was suddenly an 'it?' What the hell?

"Shut up, Kisame. If his fever's gone down, he's not so contagious." Itachi threw Kisame a withering look and motioned 'come hither' to Sasuke with one hand. Sasuke complied out of age-old habit, glancing curiously at the screen of the laptop that Itachi had been bent over.

"Thai?" Itachi swirled a bowl of what looked and smelled like curry at Sasuke. "It used to be too spicy for you."

Sasuke huffed at that tone, but still declined comment. He had gotten better about the spice, but his stomach was at the point of hunger approaching nausea, so he didn't think he should push it.

"Kisame, stop picking the meat out of that and pass the rice."

Kisame complied, though he was still eying Sasuke much as other people tended to eye Gaara- wondering how to keep him at least a certain physical distance away. Itachi scraped some into a bowl and handed it up to Sasuke. The curry was balanced on the sliced arm of the couch.

"Chopsticks are in the drawer next to the sink." Itachi said, pouring curry over the remaining rice and bending over his laptop again. Kisame could be heard muttering about 'infection' as Sasuke wandered over to the kitchen. This was not as clean as the living room or (damn it all) _Itachi's_ room had been. Several rags were lying in a pile on the table, grease smears and what looked like stab marks in the linoleum made it look like a minor battle had taken place. A bundle of weird, heavy-looking blades sat in a corner against the cabinets. A pile of senbon was laid out, looking shiny and almost new, on the counter. More, less polished, were scattered on the floor, making it rather hazardous to maneuver around the kitchen. Sasuke managed, though, and searched for two chopsticks that at least partially formed a pair.

"Why are there no matching chopsticks?" he asked, coming back out. It felt weird, asking that, being so easy in the same house with Itachi. Almost like time had been reversed, and Itachi had never left, never shattered Sasuke's home life and turned everything over the Sasuke, to be the brilliant prodigy child, while his idol was disparaged where once it had been praised.

He couldn't bring himself to feel anything but confusion toward Itachi at the moment; confusion as to his reasons _why_; why bring Sasuke here, why be so civil to him? What was he hoping to accomplish by all this?

"Because Kisame tends to used them to stab Deidara or Tobi when they come over and then refuses to use them again." Itachi said tonelessly.

"They deserve it! Tobi's fucking annoying, and Deidara keeps doing that eye thing so you never know _what _he's going to do with them–!"

Sasuke was lost, but he refused to show it. He poked at the curry, which was back to its place on the arm of the sofa, and cautiously scraped some onto the rice. He'd never heard of a Thai take-out place in town before, but then, the Uchiha family did not generally _do_ take-out. They either cooked, or went out to eat.

_What else had changed with Itachi since he'd known him?_

Itachi was not the serious, driven teen he had been before; or at least it seemed that way to Sasuke's illness-muddled brain. He was still quiet, his face still naturally rested in a grim, tired expression, but he had looked up from his work, was eating _while_ he worked, playing with the clear rice noodles on his chopsticks.

"I think that place mixes its ethnicities." Kisame commented, obviously having been watching Itachi just as Sasuke had. Sasuke jumped a bit at the realization that he had, indeed, been watching Itachi.

Kisame went on without waiting for a response. "I mean, aren't those noodle-things in the curry more of a Korean thing?"

"Japanese as well. Asian." Itachi shrugged, cradling his bowl in his lap as his fingers flashed over the keyboard.

Sasuke zoned out. There was no headache anymore, no soreness, just resistance from the bad arm as he ate, carefully and slowly, rolling the food around in his mouth to taste all of it before he chewed. It was the reason he had been sensitive to spice when he was younger- since he had a chance to taste it, it had a chance to hurt him.

Itachi got up at one point and got a glass of water, which he handed to Sasuke but later absently sipped out of himself. Kisame tossed back the rest of whatever he was eating and went to the kitchen, where there was a series of metallic pings and clatters that announced that he was working with the senbon that had been all over the kitchen.

There was any number of things he could have asked at this time; why, for instance, was he here instead of at home? Was there any particular _plan_ behind this arrangement, and if so, how long was it projected to last? He could have asked, but he didn't. He didn't finish the curry, either, but set it on the arm of the sofa and curled up in the deep corner between the cushions and the arm. Stuffing tickled his face from one of the shuriken rips.

The doorbell's obnoxious buzz broke the silence. Sasuke startled from his corner to stare out. Itachi looked up and frowned, and Kisame appeared at the kitchen door, saying, "I thought I ripped that goddamn thing out?!"

"You stabbed it." Itachi deadpanned. "And apparently you missed."

"Goddamnit..." Kisame went to open the door, and promptly shut it again. "Oh, fuck no!"

"Oi, Kisame! Let me in, un! What's your problem, un?"

"What do you want, Deidara?" Kisame demanded.

"I just came to visit! And Leader-san said he couldn't get a hold of you, un."

Itachi shrugged. "I disconnected the phone in my room."

"Why the hell would you do that, un?"

Sasuke was wearing a frown almost identical to Itachi's initial one. He had no interest in whatever eventfulness was beginning; he had been quite content with the blissful dreaminess of the near-silent house, the detachment that came with his mute acceptance of what could quite easily be considered a very disadvantageous situation. Slowly drifting off to sleep had seemed a perfect solution.

"Just let him in." Itachi said. "He's not going to go away."

Kisame glared at the blonde man revealed when he opened the door.

"Finally, un!" A black trench coat embroidered with red clouds swirled around the blonde- Deidara- as he entered. It was quickly peeled off and dumped in a corner to reveal a black t-shirt that looked vaguely like it had an unfortunate run-in with a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw. Or some other piece of dangerous heavy machinery. Tight faded jeans and a sapphire silk scarf did nothing to dispel the illusion of feminity created by his hair and only contradicted by his voice.

"Why did you let Itachi keep the phone in his room if he's just going to disconnect it, un?"

"Because it actually wakes him up when Leader-san calls. Otherwise we don't catch the midnight calls."

"Well that doesn't work when he unplugs the thing, un- oi, why is there a miniature Itachi-clone on your couch?"

Sasuke stared. Itachi twisted his head to look up at him, then back at Deidara with a raised eyebrow.

"What? Fuck! ITACHIII! I told you he wasn't allowed on the furniture! Put him back in your room!" Kisame said.

"I'm not a _dog_." Sasuke glared.

"Itachi! When did you get a clone, un?"

"He's my little brother." Itachi corrected mildly.

Deidara stared, brushing his hair out of the way to reveal a glinting metal section over half of his face, framing a mechanical eye, and stared some more.

"Stop taking pictures." Itachi said. Deidara fluffed the hair back hurriedly.

"Ne, Itachi, why do you have a brother?"

"Well, Deidara, when a man and a woman love each other very much..."

"No, no!" Deidara cut him off. " I mean, why d'you have your brother _here_, un?"

Hm. Useful. Deidara was asking the very question Sasuke wanted an answer to.

"Because he's sick."

"And Kisame let him in the house?!"

"He kidnapped his fucking _brother_, Deidara, what else was I supposed to do?"

"Whoa, you kidnapped your _brother_? Why the fuck would you do that, un?"

"Because our parents are idiots who let him go to school on a fever of nearly 102." Itachi said flatly.

"But what are you going to _do_ with him?"

"He's fifteen. It's not like he needs taken care of."

"I'm right here, damnit." Sasuke grumbled.

"This is just weird, un." Deidara leaned around Itachi to peer at Sasuke. Small clicking and whirring sounds emanated from the mechanical side of his face.

"I told you to stop taking pictures." Itachi said.

"Oh. Hehe. You did, un?"

"What do you want, Deidara?"

"Oh, Sasori-danna kicked me out of the house after I accidentally blew out a light fixture and tried to paint the refrigerator." Deidara shrugged. "So I've got about a week before I can go back there. But you guys have a boarder, so I'll just... I dunno. I don't really wanna see if Hidan and Kakuzu would let me."

"You could just get a hotel room." Kisame suggested.

"Or, I don't know, drop by the _guild headquarters_?" Itachi sounded exasperated.

"But then I'd have to deal with _Naruto!_" Deidara wailed.

"What?!" Sasuke startled himself so much he started coughing again.

"Whoa, it really _is_ sick, un! You're doomed, Kisa-chan."

"Why, you–!"

Deidara ran before Kisame could get him, grabbing his coat and slamming through the door with a hurried, "Bye, un!"

"What the fuck did he mean by having to deal with Naruto?!" Sasuke demanded.

Itachi sighed. "Well, you know Naruto's brother...?"

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: I know that there's always things I wanted to mention here, but I never remember them at the time of actually finishing typing a chapter... oh well.

You all owe this being typed up as fast as it was (that's right, I was going to procrastinate even more) to .Rythm.Emotion. She pestered me at school, so it got typed. Instead of my English essay. Aren't you all proud of me?


	4. Chapter 4

Criminal Insanity

**Summary** (Yes!! I finally revised that crappy summary from before!) : School. Serial killers. Deranged siblings. And shinobi training on top of that. modern AU, main Itachi/Gaara/Sasuke, lots of other pairings.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. Alas alas. I have taken to dragging Gaara around with me. You all's best friend, .Rythm.Emotion., who actually gets me to type this stuff, drags Itachi around, but she doesn't keep very good track of him.

**Spellcheck of the day**: Itachi: attach

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

"Na-ru-to-chaaan! Where did you hide the ramen?"

"I'm not telling you, freak! That's my ramen, get your own!" Generally Naruto did not yell at his older brother. Kyuubi was vicious, powerful, murderous- and had all his massive chakra bound down and sealed neatly inside his younger brother. If he killed Naruto, he killed his own chakra. So Naruto was safe, for the most part, and according to most accounts, Kyuubi had calmed down quite a bit after they'd done the chakra-seal.

Not to say he wasn't dangerous. He was- could kill you a plethora of rather bloody ways (Kyuubi liked blood- Naruto was willing to bet it was something of a fetish) without the use of his chakra. So Naruto usually avoided, for the most part, pissing him off.

But by god, this was his _ramen_ they were talking about!! If the damn skinny freak (at nearly seven feet and weighing barely 140 pounds, Kyuubi was a _stick_) wanted ramen, he would have to go get his _own_, not pilfer Naruto's stash! Thus, the reason why his stash was under his bed in his corner room with the various dirty pieces of red and yellow 'Caution,' 'Danger,' and 'Crime Scene: Do Not Cross,' tape across the door, rather than the cupboard in the kitchen where it used to be.

"But I'm hungry!" Kyuubi flung open his door, the lock a paltry obstacle at best, and flopped onto the foot of Naruto's bed, squirming and looking up at him with a pleading pout that would probably be endearing if it weren't for the slit-pupilled, blood-red eyes and thick black whisker marks slashed across his cheeks.

"So?" Naruto frowned down at the 30-year-old sprawled over his bed. Kyuubi certainly didn't look 30- most people guessed him 21 or so, at most. If he was acting _this_ juvenile, though, they must be alone in the building. "Get something that one of your freaky friends made. They always stash it in the fridge."

"Yeah, but Orochimaru's little group were the last ones here and I don't even _know _what it _is_- I think I saw a turtle go in there, though." Kyuubi frowned in distaste and attempted to shift off of the long groups of hair bound up on top of his head. One of the two framing his face with bright orange-red was caught under his elbow, making the task rather difficult. He kept it up in a ponytail separated into seven parts, which together with the parts left loose, represented the 'nine tails' of his name.

Kyuubi was a little eccentric. When you considered that he had custody of Naruto since Naruto was _four_, it was rather amazing that he'd come out as well-adjusted as he had. After all, Kyuubi ran a guild for _serial killers_.

Well, really they were just any lawless mercenary 'trained. 'Bingo book,' the police 'trained called them. 'Serial killers' was the civilian designation. Technically Kyuubi's 'guild' was just this building, with its rooms arranged almost like a small hotel around a big, central rectangle that encompassed a living room and a kitchen. But Kyuubi liked it, and he let Naruto live here, since he'd decided to move who-knew-where and Naruto had refused to go with.

It got kind of creepy when you were surrounded by random, hostile, sometimes ridiculously powerful lawless 'trained. Particularly when you ran into one of them at school as your science teacher. (Orochimaru had been amused. Naruto had been rather freaked out. After all, this was the guy who'd hit on him since he was 12 and had first started living here.)

At the same time, Naruto was used to basically living on his own. Kyuubi wasn't exactly a _nurturing_ person- in morals and certain personal habits, he was even more immature than Naruto, and that, if one were to believe Sasuke, was quite a feat.

There was silence for a while. Naruto returned his attention to the manga he was reading- he was fairly sure it was Kyuubi's, judging from the amount of violence and gore, but it had been left on the kitchen counter, so he'd claimed it.

The jingle of the bells on the front door heralded someone's arrival; the accompanying, "Tadaima!" meant that it was probably someone Naruto would get along with. He couldn't quite place the voice, though...

"Which one of the rooms is free, un?"

Holy flip, it was Deidara.

"Any of them 'cept Orochi-kun's!" Kyuubi called back, rolling off Naruto's bed and darting out the door. Naruto put the manga aside and followed him out eagerly. Deidara was easygoing- at least, compared to the other frequenters, he was.

"Ne," Kyuubi was saying. "Help me find the ramen. Naruto's hidden it somewhere."

"That's because it's _my_ ramen!" Naruto said.

Deidara ducked back out of the room he had claimed. "I can cook stuff, un!" he said brightly.

"Like hell you can. You've got a restraining order from the kitchen." Naruto scoffed.

"Yeah, after consecutive events with the toaster, microwave, and culminating with the 'oven incident...'" Kyuubi trailed off.

"You're not allowed in the kitchen." Naruto said.

"Oi, it's not _my _fault your kitchen hates me, un! I do just fine with the one at home!"

Kyuubi and Naruto looked at each other.

"Yeah. Sasori rigged it."

"Oi!"

After a moment of awkward silence with Deidara leaning against the door, Kyuubi turned his stare to Naruto and attempted the pleading look again. This time, though, Naruto caved.

"FINE! I'll make us ramen! But you can't look when I get it out!" Naruto stomped off. Sometimes, just occasionally, when the only people around were him and Kyuubi (the addition of people like Deidara being all right, but others not so much) it was hard to believe that Kyuubi was basically a destructive force leashed to Naruto more by chakra than shared parentage.

"It's like, empty here, un." Deidara was saying wonderingly, flopped on a couch, when Naruto came back from digging the ramen out from under his bed. It might not seem like the cleverest hiding spot, but with all the crap he shoved under his bed, it became almost like a maze that nobody else would be able to navigate.

"Oh, Zabuza should be dropping by sometime later. Said he had a bunch of high-paying requests that he didn't want, so he's farming them out to us."

Zabuza was coming over? Well, that shouldn't be too bad- Naruto had known Zabuza since he was 10 and Haku had first invited Naruto over. It had only been a mild shock the first time he'd seen Zabuza at the guild-house. (Finding Orochimaru as a science teacher had been worse.)

Naruto half-listened to the ruckus of Deidara and Kyuubi fighting over the remote while he stirred in the ramen and read his stolen manga. Several minor explosions going off didn't even faze him- the ripping of cloth, however, had him out to investigate- just in case. Sure enough, Deidara had probably hidden the remote in his shirt, as the article of clothing was now dangling from Kyuubi's claws and the remote was in Kyuubi's possession.

"Oi!" Deidara screeched. "That was my fucking _shirt_, un!"

"Safe sex, boys." Naruto said blandly. Both of them looked at him, horror-stricken, and Naruto went back to the kitchen with a smug smile. Oh, that training with Jiraiya had been a bad influence, very bad.

"So why are you here on your own, Dei?" Kyuubi asked over ramen (Naruto was forced to carry this out to the living room, as they were perfectly serious about having a restraining order from the kitchen for Deidara).

"Oh, I'm just here for a week or so because Sasori-danna kicked me out, un."

"Ooh!" Naruto perked up. "What'd you do this time?"

"Um... blew up a lamp and tried to decorate the refrigerator, un."

"We should totally decorate the refrigerator!"

"Except, we can't, because Kyuubi won't let me in the kitchen, un."

"Damn right."

"You're washing the dishes, Kyuu." Naruto chose this time to inform him.

"Whaa?!"

"I let you have ramen- MY ramen- so you have to wash the dishes!"

"I'm a _mass murderer_! I don't wash dishes!"

"Yes, you do, I've seen it before!"

"Not in front of other guild members!"

"I won't tell anyone, un." Deidara snickered.

"Yes you will! You'll tell your whole damn Akatsuki!"

"Everyone washes dishes. _Itachi_ washes dishes. It's not that weird, un."

Kyuubi pouted, but went to wash the dishes. Deidara lounged on the couch, spread out like a fashion (or porn, more likely, taking in the fact that Kyuubi had ripped off his shirt) model, and flipped through channels.

The door opened without setting off the bells and closed with a click. Naruto leapt out of his stupor as Zabuza stalked into the room.

"Where's Kyuubi?" he asked.

"Kitchen."

"You're probably not allowed in, un."

"It can't seriously take him _that_ long to wash dishes, can it?" Naruto asked.

"I dunno, un." Deidara shrugged.

Zabuza ignored them and went to forcibly unlock the door. Naruto was kept from paying any attention to that, though, because his eyes were locked onto wide brown ones framed by long lashes and a feminine face.

"Naruto?" The tone was incredulous.

Oh, fuck. Zabuza had brought Haku.

"Um, hi... Haku." Naruto said weakly.

"What on earth are you doing here? Are you all right? Are you being held hostage?" Haku came over to latch onto his arm, eyes worried.

"Hostage?" Naruto repeated. Behind him, Deidara burst out laughing.

"Hostage? That's a good one, un. Who's this?"

"Oh, shut up, Deidara." Naruto said. "This is Haku. Haku, this is Deidara."

The worry in Haku's eyes intensified. "Naruto... can we talk? Somewhere else?"

"Oooh!" Deidara was suddenly draped over the back of the couch, watching them avidly. "What's this, what's this? We've heard so much about you from Zabi-kun, un."

"I'll rip off your head and roast your entrails." came Zabuza's warning growl, as it always did when somebody used that nickname.

"Affair?" Deidara whispered mischievously.

Naruto threw him a withering look. "Hardly." He let Haku lead him out into the hall.

"Naruto, you do know what this place is, don't you?"

"Uhh, Haku..."

"I don't know what you're doing here, but I'd get out, really. I mean, I'm only here because Zabuza decided that it was alright to bring me, and that was only because I pestered him about where he's always going! He's told me all sorts of stories about these people, Naruto, they're _completely_ lawless–"

"Haku!" Naruto cut him off. "I _live_ here! I have since I was twelve."

"You... what?" Haku faltered.

"My older brother, the one I said I lived with? Umn, well, he kinda founded this, uh, guild-thing..."

"Your brother is _Kyuubi_? _The_ Kyuubi?!"

"Well, there's not too many others, are there?" Kyuubi was leaning against the doorway, baring his (rather pointy) teeth at them in a grin. "It's so nice to finaly meet one of your little friends, Naru-chan." The time of before was over; the jokes and chores were gone. In its place again was the barely tangible, but very real menace of Kyuubi's presence.

Naruto glared anyway. He wasn't going to let Kyuubi intimidate him.

"Kyuu! Kyuu! Oooh, can I take this one? Me an' Sasori? Leader-san would let us, un! I know you don't actually caaare!" Deidara ruined the moment wonderfully, skidding around the corner and jumping up to cling around Kyuubi's neck.

"Oi! Suffocation!" Kyuubi cried.

Naruto decided that he really didn't give Deidara enough credit. The menace was gone again, the comfort and semi-normality was back.

"Haku! We're going." Zabuza's gruff voice rang out from the door. Haku broke off from staring at Kyuubi to give Naruto a look that promised interrogation at school tomorrow.

"Coming, Zabuza-sama!"

"Na, Kyuu-sama, it's demolition, you'd let me have it anyway, un!"

"But _I_ like to hand them out!" Kyuubi whined.

"Since when do people hire 'trained for arson?" Naruto asked.

"Since they want to get the job done right, un." Deidara said smugly.

"And if it pays high enough, Sasori might even let you back into the house."

"Oi!"

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Haku cornered him at school the next day, coming in before homeroom was technically over (but Iruka-sensei had finished, anyway). He grabbed Naruto by the wrist and dragged him over to the corner where Gaara sat. The redhead regarded them with some surprise.

"So you've been living in a _mercenary guild_?" Haku demanded.

"Should I go?" Gaara inquired.

"No, you keep the people away." Haku's expression softened into his usual cheerful smile for Gaara, but turned again into a glare-pout when he turned back to Naruto. Iruka-sensei shook his head and left them alone. Most of class 1-A's teachers were used to Haku coming in and out- most of them also knew or suspected his 'training.

"Yes. I live at the guild-house." Naruto sighed.

"And you _know_ the kind of people that go there?"

"...Some of them are kind of annoying, actually. Particularly the ones that fit that civilian serial-killer definition thing. Like my brother! Augh! He will not stop stealing my ramen!" Naruto lost the thread of his fledgling rant, as Haku was staring at him in a mixture of exasperation and wonder.

"Why didn't you _tell_ us?"

"Are you kidding? Maybe, because I live at a general hide-out for _serial killers_?"

Gaara was tracking their conversation with far too much interest.

Haku sighed. "Okay, okay. It was just kind of a shock, I guess. I mean, Zabuza-sama was telling me to make sure I kept out of the way and didn't piss anyone off and then _you_ of all people are there..."

"I'm the fricking nursemaid." Naruto grumbled. "They steal my food."

"There there." Haku patted him on the head. The bell rang, and Iruka-sensei left. Kiba began to tease Ino and was punched for his trouble.

"Now, to the next order of business..."

"We have a next order of business?"

"Yes. Sasuke's not here again. Which means either it's more serious than we thought, or... well, it's more serious than we thought. He never misses two days in a row."

"Particularly after coming on Wednesday... it makes sense that he'd miss yesterday, but today? Stupid teme..." Naruto grumbled.

"His brother took him." Both of them looked up as Gaara spoke.

"Wha?" Naruto asked.

"I assume it was his brother. Uchiha Itachi."

"...holy fuck."

"What would his brother want with him?" Haku wondered aloud. "They hate each other."

"Nah. Sasuke hates Itachi. I dunno about the other way around." Naruto said.

"So..." Haku thought about this.

"Holy fuck, Sasuke got kidnapped by his own _brother_!" Naruto said.

"Naruto, let's not jump to conclusions..."

The next day, Sasuke was there, looking pale but otherwise usual, sitting in his desk with Sakura and Ino on either side of him, chattering to his stone-wall facade.

"Sasuke-teme!!" Naruto called as soon as he came through the door. "Where were you?!"

Sakura and Ino waited with bated breath.

Sasuke folded his arms and looked vaguely disgruntled for a moment before he finally said, "My brother kidnapped me. He refused to let me come to school."

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

School was definitely more exciting here than in Suna. Particularly gym class, as this was run separately for 'trained. The 2-A and 3-A 'trained were consolidated into one gym group, and this Saturday, they were setting up to spar. Apparently Gai-sensei was not deterred in the least by the annoyance of the other teachers with the sparring practice.

He was cautioning them against knocking each other out, though. Probably somebody had got on his case.

Kankurou regarded his opponent (Tenten) appraisingly. He wasn't sure what to expect from her fighting style. All he had learned about her was from Drama Club. And, after only a week, that wasn't much.

Then the announcement of only taijutsu and ninjutsu being allowed came, and judging by her indignant, "What?!" she wasn't any happier about that than he was.

In the end, they came to a draw. Lee had been knocked out by a lucky shot to the head by Neji, and Gai had to stop the unconscious boy from attempting to continue the fight. The dark pink-haired girl, Tayuya, ended up bleeding from the shoulder, as Gai had forgotten to outlaw kekkei genkai, and whatever that kid Kimimaro had done, it had ripped a nice bit through the muscle.

There was no Drama Club on Saturdays, and school ended before lunchtime. Kankurou met Temari outside the school. They waited a bit for Gaara, who didn't show- they hadn't expected him to- and began the walk to the station to catch a ride home.

The transport system actually let them off at a station about a mile from their little house, which was ridiculous, considering that they lived close enough to the town for there to be shops within walking distance. Not suburbia by any means.

Temari got out her ring of keys to search for the house key, but the door swung open when she turned the knob before ever putting the key in.

"Oh, fuck." she muttered. Kankurou silently agreed. His instinct was to turn and leave, before they were noticed; just slink away.

"Why, family." Shukaku slid around the doorway of the living room and into the hall. "You're finally home."

"Shukaku." Temari grumbled. "How unfortunate to see you again."

"Aww, don't be like that, imouto." His presence, though he was barely Kankurou's height and built slim (not as slight as Gaara), made the hall seem small and enclosed, nearly claustrophobic. They stood their ground.

"Where's our littlest brother?" Shukaku peered over their shoulders and around them theatrically, raising strange, warped yellow eyes to meet theirs. "Did you lose him along the way?"

"Not home yet." Temari said.

"Are you not taking proper care of him?" Shukaku's voice held mock concern.

"He's fine. Leave him alone." She glared. Shukaku glared back, his hands closing halfway into fists, and then turned suddenly and stalked back towards the living room.

He stopped before he got all the way there, though, and glanced back at them. "I notice you got your little locks up already. Don't think that'll stop me, ne?"

"Fuck." Kankurou said as soon as the striped blond-and-black ponytail of their brother had disappeared. He felt vaguely sick to his stomach.

"...I don't think he's happy about the move."

Kankurou leaned against the wall for support. "I was kind of hoping that he wouldn't be coming when he wasn't here yesterday."

Temari gave him the look that clearly said, 'Dumbass.' "As if. He said he'd find us, of course he'd end up here. Don't go giving yourself false hope, it's unhealthy."

"Whatever." Kankurou muttered. The instinct was to go, get out of the house, but he just couldn't find a good excuse to leave. So he closeted himself in his room and flopped on his half-made bed, just looking around at his furniture haphazardly arranged and his boxes of stuff strewn across the floor. He hadn't bothered with unpacking them yet- hadn't seen any reason to. The box of knives and other kitchen equipment glinted at him, but he didn't feel like putting it away.

He twirled his key on his finger, his key to the refrigerator, cabinets, pantry. Food was their only real weapon against Shukaku- even he needed to eat. And his twisted games bent only to certain tunes- you could hold a kunai to his throat and he'd let you come damn close to cutting his artery before he'd knock you so hard you'd make an imprint on the walls, and you wouldn't be any closer to convincing him of anything. Tell him, "No dinner," and he'd grudgingly give in.

Gaara didn't come back until dinnertime. They were in the kitchen, Shukaku seated on the counter and watching Temari dish up some box rice mix, when the youngest appeared at the door. Shukaku immediately shifted his focus, intensity increasing tenfold. Kankurou followed his gaze to Gaara, who was holding onto the doorframe tight enough that his already pale knuckles were turning white.

"Gaara!" Shukaku's smile was all fangs and darkened yellow eyes. "How very... _nice_ to see you again."

Gaara's eyes were wide and frantic for a moment before turning glazed and cold; he was cutting himself off. Kankurou looked away, studying the lock on the nearest cabinet. It clicked when he pressed on it, barely audible above the phantom static in his ears. Shukaku's steps were heavy as he pushed himself off the counter and went straight over to Gaara. Temari's clothes rustled when she moved nervously.

"Have you been being _good_ for mother?" Shukaku's harsh whisper seemed to cut the air. Gaara's breathing became audibly ragged. "I don't smell enough blood on you. You're not being a _good_ son, are you? You killed her, and you're not obeying her last wishes?"

Gaara stayed silent, only a strange whimper emerging. Shukaku always whispered, always hated; tortured his little brother and destroyed his sanity.

"Let's go." Kankurou could barely hear it. Shukaku and Gaara's footsteps rang out as they moved out of the kitchen.

"Fuck!" Temari punched the cabinet, which splintered. Kankurou looked up; a line of blood ran from her lip where she was biting it. He looked at the food- he had no appetite anymore. Temari turned to him, not quite crying. "Why can't we _do_ anything?"

Kankurou shook his head. Because Shukaku would kill them, because Shukaku would not kill Gaara because _that_ would kill Shukaku as well, and because if they died then there would be nothing to keep Gaara from cracking all the way.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: ... Once again, this would be even later if it weren't for .Rythm.Emotion., you would have to wait even longer than you do. I'm sorry I'm slow!! (cries) I can't help it. If I was faster, you'd have shorter chapters. And I hate short chapters. Not even too sure I'm very happy about this one. (dies)


	5. Chapter 5

Criminal Insanity

Disclaimer: Don't own it. I do own a Kirigakure hitai-ate now, though! n.n

Spellcheck of the Day: Fugaku- Fagaceae

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

It was a first for Sasuke, to stay 'home' when he wasn't stuck in bed. He was strong and lucid enough to go to school, and this put him at a loss as to why he wasn't _at_ school. It was also a first to miss two days in a row. Or, at least, a first since elementary school.

But Itachi had threatened (actually said, quite matter-of-fact and rather tonelessly disinterested) that he would track Sasuke down and tie him to the bed if he tried to go to school while Itachi was out. So Sasuke was left pretty much alone in the house.

Kisame, who was apparently Itachi's roommate, had attempted to threaten Sasuke out of touching the furniture. Sasuke, of course, refused to comply. Kisame was just weird. And looked kind of like a fish. It was the beady eyes and strange little gill-marks on his cheeks. Of course, the blue skin didn't help much.

He went to school on Saturday, and was immediately seized by Ino and Sakura babbling 'We missed you,' and Naruto (and later Haku) shouting about what-the-hell. There was shock when he told them Itachi had kidnapped him, which was expected; what was not expected was for Naruto to turn to _Gaara_ of all people and start exclaiming, "Oh my god, you were right, Gaara!"

What Sasuke really couldn't figure out, though, was after school. Because after school, Itachi came for him. Was just there, waiting, at his locker, unlike the times he'd appeared as Sasuke was closing the locker.

Sasuke was irrationally angry. What did Itachi think he was doing, here at the high school, at Sasuke's locker, looking so damn calm and nonchalant like he _belonged_ there? He didn't belong there, he shouldn't be appearing like this. He'd walked out of Sasuke's life when he was _nine years old_, damnit!

"Good afternoon, otouto." Itachi's expression didn't change as he said it. He just stared at Sasuke, _looked_ at him, eyes cold and dead and fathomless. Sasuke didn't like it. That was the look he remembered, from the 16-year-old Itachi, only a bit calmer. There had always been that feel, when he had hugged Itachi; the tense muscles, the little wrinkle between the eyes from glowering so much. Not sullen, because Itachi was never really sullen. Angry.

"Why are you here?" Sasuke demanded. "You had your strange little episode, dragging me back home with you. Leave me alone."

"No," Itachi said simply. He just stared. Just like way back then, Itachi never simply looked at something when he could _stare_ at it, like he could look into your very soul and the only barrier between now and that actually happening was the flat black of his eyes, the veil of his long lashes, before they widened and the sharingan slipped on.

_The sharingan slipped on and stared him down; Sasuke squirmed, because he hated it when Itachi would do that. It made him feel vulnerable, it mad him feel weak and useless, because by his age, Itachi could use the sharingan already, and Sasuke couldn't._

"_Aniki, what's going on?" he asked, trying and not quite managing to meet Itachi's eyes. The tomoes spun faster, and Sasuke flinched away a bit, because there was that aura today, after Itachi had come back from one of his private training sessions. The one that he couldn't identify, couldn't understand, somewhere between sad and angry and everything. _

_He hadn't seen it coming, didn't know why Itachi said it. But it was just there. _

"_I'm leaving, Sasuke." _

_For some reason the bottom dropped out of his stomach. He pouted up at Itachi, flinching again when he met those eyes. "Wh-when will you be back this time?"_

"_I'm not coming back." _

_He didn't understand. Sure, Itachi was gone a lot recently, but that was because he was helping the 'trained section police, taking higher-level jobs than anyone of his age ever had. But he always came back. Itachi was always there, even when he wasn't really _there_, when he never had time for Sasuke between school, work, and training._

"_Itachi!" A voice range out. Another relative, one Sasuke didn't really recognize, ran around the corner. Itachi didn't bother to turn off the sharingan, didn't bother to mask that dead look that he only ever seemed to show to Sasuke. The man- teen? (He was older than Sasuke, and taller than even Itachi, but neither of these were really saying much) hesitated a moment. "Fugaku-sama wants to speak to you." _

"_No." _

_Sasuke stared, riveted. Itachi never said no. Never refused, seldom argued, and certainly didn't argue over something as trivial as this. _

_The man looked surprised as well, but he slid into a fighting stance. "Fugaku-sama said I was to use force if necessary." _

_Itachi didn't move, didn't seem to do anything. But he must have, because Sasuke could sense the chakra, feel something respond in his own that scared him, this dark, malevolent power. Itachi's eyes shifted slowly, the sharingan pattern morphing into something like a three-pronged shuriken on a field of bloodshot red. And for some reason, the other man was scared, nearly took an uncertain step backwards. _

_He steeled himself, though, and leapt to the attack. He was deflected with the kind of effortless grace that Itachi brought to any combat. Itachi grabbed him by the collar and dragged him down to his level, the twisted sharingan spinning slowly._

"_I said, no. You can go and tell _otou_-sama," (the word 'father' layered thick with something akin to disgust) "that I won't be coming for his little 'talk.'"_

_Itachi released the man, and he scrambled away. Itachi's attention turned back to Sasuke, the strange shuriken pattern melding back into the too-familiar three-comma rings. Sasuke shrank back, unnerved, not sure what was going on. _

"_Goodbye, Sasuke."_

Just like before, it was instinct to shrink back before that stare. But Sasuke was not a nine-year-old confronted by his brother's sharingan; he was 15, and no matter how much that dead look bothered him, it was not the sharingan, nor its strange, fearful mutation, it was simply his brother.

"Why, then, damnit? _Why_ are you doing all this?" Why would Itachi take him away from the Uchiha home, why would he be here today, putting in all this effort, when before he'd abandoned Sasuke? "Why did you leave?" he whispered, making a metallic clunk as he leaned heavily against the lockers. His head throbbed in protest.

Itachi's eyes seemed to darken, melting a bit to allow Sasuke access to his humanity, not just the mask he wore around to daily things. "You still don't understand."

Sasuke laughed without feeling. "Then maybe you ought to make me understand. Because otherwise I'm sure as hell not going anywhere with you."

"That house is poison." The words were flat, jarring. "You must have felt it by now. Always trying for perfection."

"Always trying to match up to _you!_" Sasuke burst out, pulling himself away from the lockers to glare at Itachi. "Itachi this, Itachi that, they never really let go of you! And I just can't measure up! Always coming up short, do you know about that? To constantly try, and never be able to succeed, always be second best?"

Itachi's quiet words met his passion head-on. "At least there is something to measure up against. At least there is a set limit, because without that, it spirals off into infinity. You wish to know why I left?" The sharingan was suddenly there, whirling, and was just as quickly replaced by the shuriken pattern. "This is the mangekyo sharingan. Do you know how it is obtained?"

Sasuke was nine again, caught in that strange and frightening gaze. He shook his head slowly, eyes wide, heart pounding.

"I killed my closest friend. Wrote him a suicide note, and everything, dumped his body in the river. There was no remorse. Perfection is necessary and sacrifices to get there are negligible. That's what we've been taught. They just kept pushing. No matter how perfect I got, they wanted more. I wanted them all gone, I didn't want to keep pushing for something so clearly impossible. I'd already killed my closest friend; do you think it would have mattered to kill those who I didn't even _like_?" The sharingan switched off suddenly, and Sasuke was free to stumble backwards, away from Itachi.

"I left, otouto. It was the lesser of two evils."

Sasuke was lost, casting about aimlessly for an answer. He'd always known Itachi would have his reasons for departure, but he'd never guessed that he would _understand_ them.

"They're forcing you into the same corner, aren't they? But I don't want you repeating my mistakes. That's no way to live."

"I'm not going with you," Sasuke said stubbornly, but it lacked the conviction he'd had earlier.

"Fine. I'm glad we had this talk, otouto." The mask came back on, the gentle, reclusive, approachable person that others were allowed to meet and interact with. Itachi brushed by him with a flutter of fingertips against Sasuke's cheek, and left him standing there in the deserted hallway.

The bright sunlight outside was a shock, the cheerful light a contrast to the biting October cold. Naruto attacked him almost as soon as he set foot outside the building. By 'attack,' rather, he meant that the blonde flew out of nowhere and dog-piled him with kage bunshins. Trust Naruto to be willing to waste that amount of chakra on such a stupid thing.

Kiba's unmistakable laugh met his ears through the pile of Narutos, along with Hinata's muffled voice saying, "Umn, N-naruto-kun, are you sure he's okay?"

The Naruto latched around his waist (also the one that had knocked him rather unceremoniously onto the pavement) shouted back, "Nah, he's fine. You think a little thing like this could hurt Sasuke?"

Sasuke responded by driving an elbow into that Naruto's head. It exploded into a poof of smoke. He struggled to sit up through the tangle of orange-clad limbs. "Get _off_ me, you moron."

He wanted to ask Naruto about what Itachi had told him; half-remembered through the blur of nauseous excitement and sickness that had been his first day there. But Kiba and Hinata and who-knew-who else was there, and he didn't want to bring it up with them around.

He was too numb from his most recent encounter with Itachi, anyway. He didn't know what to think, and was torn between the distraction his friends offered and going home to be able to think it over.

Most of the Narutos exploded into smoke, leaving only the original clinging determinedly around Sasuke's neck. Shikamaru, Chouji, and Ino were there, bringing Sakura along squabbling with Ino over something petty. Neji was there by default, standing behind Hinata.

"C'mon, teme, we're gonna go see a movie! Come with us!"

"No." Automatic reaction. Deny anything suggested by Naruto.

"Yes! C'mon! You're going!"

"No."

"Yesyesyesyesyes!"

Augh. Fine. If it would get the idiot to stop screeching in his ear. Sasuke stood, peeling Naruto off him. "What movie?"

"Umn... I don't know!" Naruto looked to everyone else helplessly.

"Um," Kiba contributed, face turned upwards in thought.

"What does it really matter, anyway? We're just gonna go see a movie! We can pick one out at the theater!"

"Oh, yeah, that's a _real_ efficient plan." Neji rolled his eyes, though with the trademark Hyuuga pupil-less eyes, you could barely tell.

"Okay, I'm here! Let's go before the transport leaves!" Haku came out of the school, looking cheerful as ever and trailed closely by... Gaara? Haku would usually have anybody by the hand, so Gaara must have some pretty serious hands-off policy to keep Haku at bay.

"That's right! C'mon, Sasuke-teme!"

Sasuke rolled his eyes and growled his annoyance, but allowed himself to be swept up in the mass of moving bodies.

The transport they took was crowded, both with other students and people out and about for Saturday lunch. They were pushed into a corner somehow, Kiba, Naruto, and Ino shoved into one two-person seat, with Sakura on Ino's lap. Sasuke ended up sandwiched between Hinata and Gaara, who looked even more disgruntled by the contact than Sasuke did.

The movie they settled on was some action flick sequel, which was, predictably, nothing compared to the original. Sakura and Ino vied for his attention throughout most of the first half, before the explosions kicked in and made it at least half-interesting.

It did give him a chance to calm down and think rationally. About Itachi, their parents, and, as occurred to him suddenly and unpleasantly, what he was going to do when he got home. He had been gone for two nights without any explanation. He could, of course, give them the reasons they would want- it seemed like a dream, a not-necessarily-good dream, and not reality, that Itachi would kidnap his little brother.

They would suspect the worst of intentions, of course. Ever since Itachi had left, they had been accusing him of all sorts of criminal taints and associations. (Judging from what he had seen at Itachi's place, not to mention the explanation of Itachi's association with Naruto, this was not actually that far off the mark.)

In light of this dilemma, the movie was over far too soon. Sasuke was almost tempted by the motion led by Haku and Naruto to go out to the mall after the movie. It was close, after all, and (the bright point in Sasuke's opinion) time-consuming.

But Sakura and Ino were going, and that was just simply... a turn-off. Sasuke didn't want them hanging all over him even more than they did at school- going home seemed at least slightly preferable to that.

He changed his mind as soon as he entered the house. His mother was on him as though wired to his presence, hugging him tearfully the way she hadn't done since he was five. Sasuke frowned, attempting (unsuccessfully) to squirm out of her grasp.

"I'm _fine_, Okaa-san!" he hissed. Mikoto merely straightened up and hugged him tighter, looking down at him instead of having her face buried in his shoulder.

"Where on _Earth_ have you been?!" predictably, was the first thing out of her mouth.

Sasuke twitched. He was 'trained, had been a first-level since he was 12, and was nearly accepted into second-level by now. One would _think_, in a traditional 'trained family (particularly one that was head of a traditional clan), that a few unexplained days away would be met with a little less desperation.

"Sasuke? Sasuke?" Mikoto held him at arm's length. Sasuke was reminded of when he was little, when she used to worry over Itachi this way, how he used to feel second-best. How, like so many things, once he received her full attention, he found that he didn't want it, not really. It was smothering and difficult to deal with and yet another thing he now sympathized with Itachi for, rather than clinging to old resentment.

"I've been at school," he said snappishly, finally managing to pull out of her grasp. He loved his mother, he really did, but Mikoto was just... powerless in her own home. Completely dominated by her husband, not able to make herself heard properly... Sasuke hated watching it. Almost as much as he hated how he was noticing these things, as if they'd never occurred to him before, since he'd come back from Itachi.

"What, you stayed overnight at school?" Her face was creased with worry and confusion.

"Yeah. Survival training." Sasuke wondered vaguely why he was doing this, protecting Itachi. It wasn't like his brother needed his protection- no, things always seemed the opposite of that between them. It made the interrogation easier for Sasuke, though, because the lie, in this case, was so much simpler than the truth.

"At school?" She frowned, but did not protest when his response was nothing beyond a shrug. Sasuke made a quick retreat.

He collapsed on his own unmade bed in his messy room. An essay was half-finished on the computer. _(Itachi on the laptop)_ Kunai peeked out from under discarded clothes and the blankets spilling off the bed. _(Senbon scattered across the kitchen counter)_ It was almost unfamiliar in its familiarity; the comfort it offered was cold and impersonal.

Fuck. His room was not a very good hideaway at the moment. Sasuke collected what kunai he could find readily, to augment what he had hidden on him, and his practice wakizashi. His window slid up, and Sasuke dropped to the lawn.

The training grounds he was looking for were not the ones in the yard, but rather one of the further ones, more public to the other Uchihas, but virtually unused.

Katas were boring (nearly mind-numbing) but at least as he moved through them, working up to the complicated ones and the speed that some civilians couldn't see, it gave his body something to do. It felt good to be moving after all his days spent sick.

He stopped before dinnertime, before he lost track of time like he had on Monday. Funny how Monday seemed so far away from today.

Uchiha Fugaku was there when Sasuke got back, and he pounced as soon as Sasuke entered the room he was in.

"_Survival_ training?" he demanded. "Why were we not informed of this beforehand?"

Fugaku smelled his lie. Sasuke stood immobile before his father, trying to school his features to the block of ice he wore around the fangirls in class.

"What are you running off for? Do you want to end up like your brother?"

Oh, if only they knew. Always bringing up Itachi- even if they had decided to demonize him, they couldn't let him go. Just now Sasuke felt that 'ending up' like Itachi might be better, after all, than staying here.

"This is a disgrace! Report where you were, immediately."

He wanted where Sasuke had been? Fine.

"Itachi's house."

"You- what? What were you doing there?"

Being kept away from school and _you_. "Running a fever of 102 , apparently." Sasuke deadpanned.

"You are going to explain what happened. Right now."

Sasuke stared back. What was there to explain? What was there to explain that this man would actually be able to understand?

"You know we don't want you ending up like your brother, Sasuke. This is just ridiculous. Speak, boy! Stop being so disrespectful!"

"..." Fugaku _was_ trying to control his life, wasn't he? There was the pressure, to bend to his will. There was nothing to say to that.

"A disgrace! Unworthy of the Uchiha name!"

Sasuke snapped. It was just like Itachi had said. Everything was about the damn name, upholding and living up to its ideal of 'perfection.'

"What is 'worthy,' then? This dream, this lie? The _sharingan_? Is that what makes us worthy? Or is it just so you can twist everything the way you want it? Does bending to your will make us worthy?"

Things were spinning out of control. There was a strange sense of removal from the situation, as if he had handed someone else the strings to the puppet called 'Sasuke' and he was just watching as they changed his life.

"You–! I'll not have you speaking that way! Do you want to become a disgrace to the family as well?"

"What? Like _Itachi_?"

"What has he done to you? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Fugaku!" Mikoto called from the door.

"Be quiet!" the man roared at her. "I will not tolerate this in my house!" He turned back to Sasuke. "You! In your room! I will figure out how to deal with you eventually."

Sasuke tossed his head defiantly, turned on his heel, and stalked off with all the grace of the Uchiha clan. And his father called _him_ a disgrace? Well, fine.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Sasuke was in a towering bad mood come Monday. Sunday had been spent locked in his room, trying to ignore Fugaku ranting and Mikoto pleading through the door, practicing (very) close quarters kata with his wakizashi on the uneven footing that was his room. School was a just-as-unwelcome distraction.

He got into the classroom later than he usually would, not just because of some morning mix-up. Mostly because he had been forced to take a different transport than he usually did, and this one ran an extra loop that added at least five minutes.

Sakura and Ino were already there when he arrived, but were halted in the middle of their greeting cry of 'Sasuke-kuun!" by his 'I-will-rip-you-to-bits-and-burn-the-pieces' glare. The few other students in the classroom- a couple of un'trained girls and a boy- shrank back, and Sasuke realized that the sting in his eyes was not simply from glaring too hard; he had activated the sharingan. He fought it down angrily- he shouldn't be losing control like this.

One person caught his interest. Sabaku Gaara was staring at him with sort of pathological intensity and blankness. He was practically radiating a black 'Come near and I'll kill you' aura. Sasuke's grin was bitter and barely there. He dumped his bag on the floor and slid bonelessly into the seat right next to the redhead. The other boy's animosity made him feel better, though Sakura and Ino were giving him looks that clearly suggested they thought he was suicidal.

Sasuke returned Gaara's stare shamelessly. He wanted to kill something, and he knew he wasn't bothering to hide it, but Gaara was just sitting there, unblinking, picking at the 'Ai' kanji on his forehead. It was no longer the scar he had worn on the first day- now it was made of fresh, jagged cuts, barely scabbed over and beginning to well blood where Gaara's fingernail tugged at it. Discontent and seething hatred were nearly tangible in the dark edge around him.

It couldn't be said that Sasuke's problems melted away in the face of his curiosity. One, that was just plain cliche. Two, it was ridiculously untrue. The curiosity was there, yes, but for now Sasuke was perfectly content to let his and Gaara's bad moods simmer together. He couldn't handle happy at the moment. If anything loud and annoying (Naruto) came too close, Sasuke would probably hit him.

Which would be a marvelous stress-reliever, actually, but was not worth the trouble he would get into for doing it at any time other than gym class. Sasuke had been lectured at all weekend; he was done with lectures.

"Oh my god, it's like the black, angry corner of emo!" Naruto exclaimed. Sasuke and Gaara sent him twin glares. Haku, who had entered with Naruto (and was probably the entire reason he was on time), steered the blonde to his usual seat in the middle of the class, rather than their corner.

Conversations in hushed tones broke out all over the classroom before Iruka called for class to begin. Sasuke was fairly sure that half of them centered on their little corner, but he found that he really didn't much care.

Iruka's arrival quieted the class, leaving Sasuke to brood to himself uninterrupted. He couldn't avoid Naruto, but a few vehement "Go the fuck away"s and a well-placed shuriken that pinned the blonde to the desk and would have gotten him in trouble with any teacher but Kakashi-sensei, got the point across, and finally even Naruto left him alone.

Left alone, Sasuke had the chance to think, but his thoughts went roudn and round in convoluted spirals of family and perfection and discontent. He retreated from the world around him, separated from it by a dark haze of sorts that made the day scream past.

Sasuke found himself going to his locker to avoid his 'friends.' It was, for once, a solitary trip- no Itachi to bug him. He had almost expected Itachi to be there- the absence threw him more than the presence would have.

Itachi, home, perfection, Uchiha, disgrace, that bitter contempt and cold nights training alone and days long gone which he had tried to forget where he followed his brother in a single-minded obsessive devotion.

Sasuke watched the puppet of himself as it got on the wrong transport. The one that did not take him home, but wound its way to Itachi.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: Okay, first, I am SO sorry about the hideously long update time. I know, I know, summer and all, and I ought to be doing better than this. Unfortunately, I actually do _worse_ during the summer than I do in school.

Oh, and real life ish crashing down around me, so don't expect chapter six for a good three weeks or more, because it's kind of hard to write when you're on a bike. That's right. My vacation is going to be spent on a bicycle, riding over 1800 miles up the East Coast of America. (-dies-).


	6. Chapter 6

Criminal Insanity

Warnings: Short chapter. Author's note at bottom.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. However, I'm getting closer to owning an Akatsuki cloak.

Spellcheck of the day: Naruto- Norwood

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Blood tumbled down his forehead in heavy, trickling drops, getting tangled in his eyelashes and staining his fingertips and nails bright red. It twinged as the scab separated from the skin- more than twinged, really, it hurt; it was far too early for this, but that was all right, that kept him grounded here, in this classroom, this world, rather than stumbling out into the netherworld where his nightmares and memories lurked.

Only one person distracted him from this task, and that was Uchiha Sasuke. His aura was dark and angry, enough to impede on Gaara's own brooding and draw his attention from the moment he walked in the door. More importantly, though, Sasuke was also the only one who came close, close enough to be within the field of Gaara's chakra, to actually be sitting right next to him, when everyone else, even the shinobi, were keeping away.

He stared blatantly at the Uchiha, taking in all the physical details that he already knew (Gaara wasn't much to bother with hiding interest in something. If you were not ashamed of anything, nothing could be used as blackmail. It was just another of the little mental tricks you picked up when living with Shukaku). Pale skin, spiky black hair, baggy dark blue sweatshirt. It looked hard to move in, though Gaara really couldn't talk about that, as he was pretty sure the pants he was wearing were Temari's and had gotten mixed up in the wash; they were dangerously close to falling off his hips.

The dark eyes met his without flinching. Gaara couldn't read any emotion out of them, but then, he wasn't much good at recognizing a lot else other than fear. Another thing Shukaku had taught him. Gaara simply didn't get _close_ enough, let alone pay enough attention to people he wasn't about to kill to learn how to read emotions.

The black was almost liquid, seeming to swirl, reminiscent of the sharingan even when it wasn't being used. It was like another anchor, a far more pleasant one than the ruination of his forehead, though Gaara continued to peel away the scab out of habit.

There were the first tickles of a new obsession forming; the kind that was probably bleedover of Shukaku's personality due to his chakra being sealed inside Gaara, but was a result of a trait that had been around for so long it seemed like his own; the kind of obsession that usually resulted in someone dying.

He didn't particularly feel inclined towards killing, though. He hadn't killed anything- well, any_one_ (the neighbors had come by asking about their yappy little dog, but Kankurou had opened the door, so they still didn't know its whereabouts)- in all the time he'd been in Konoha, and it was an interesting feeling. Different. Cleaner, somehow. And the fear around him was more muted, or, in some cases, such as Naruto, Haku, and now, most noticeably, Uchiha Sasuke, not present.

Gaara couldn't decide if he liked it this way or not. Certainly Shukaku liked it the other way around. That was the reason for his little _punishment_ before, the reason why the kanji on his forehead now dripped blood rather than being a simple raised pattern.

Sasuke seemed to lose interest in Gaara long before Gaara lost interest in him, but then, Gaara always had been big on escapism. Anything to distract him from pain, from dilemmas. The liquid swirl became cloudy as Sasuke seemed to retreat from the real world, his expression knitted up in a contemplative frown several notches more intense than any Gaara had seen on him before. It stayed there for the rest of the day, until Sasuke stood abruptly at the bell and stalked off.

Gaara shook off the preoccupation- it was easier to do once the subject of it was gone. He had to consider his after-school options. He didn't particularly want to socialize (when did he ever?) But going home was... equally distasteful, if not more so. He didn't want to take the gamble that Shukaku wouldn't be home. With Shukaku, you never rolled dice or flipped a coin. You were playing Russian roulette with more than one chamber loaded.

Then again, when Naruto veered toward him, grinning his head off, Gaara took the option of Russian roulette. Maybe if he won he could set about making his room Shukaku-proof.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Itachi didn't go to Drama club that day. There was no point. Sasuke had made his decision, and if it hurt somewhere that his younger brother's stubbornness overruled Itachi's difficulty in offering his real feelings, he wasn't showing it. There was simply no point in going to the high school to watch over a little brother who didn't want to listen. Perhaps he would continue attendance later simply for the sake of an interesting activity, but... not now.

For now Itachi bent over his laptop, half-sunk in his and Kisame's battle-scarred couch, leaning closer as the letters refused to come into focus. Ah. Good, now he could read it properly. The rough fabric of his jacket was making his neck and wrists itch for the thousandth time that day- Itachi was beginning to think he might be allergic to something in the seams. He stripped it off and looked at it critically. Well, maybe it was just bad craftsmanship. He tossed it over the back of the couch and bent low to continue his reading.

Itachi was halfway through the second article he'd found on the subject of his history essay when the doorbell rang. Buzzed. Whatever. It really was obnoxious. If he thought about it anytime other than when it was ringing, he could get it replaced.

Unfortunately, it never did occur to him at any other time, and, quite honestly, at least it could be said that this one was attention-grabbing. Itachi slid out of the couch, leaving the laptop balanced precariously on the good arm, and went to answer the door.

The door revealed Sasuke, who looked aside defiantly and moved a leg as though to scuff his toe, but visibly stopped himself. Itachi was shocked, so much so that at first he couldn't be sure it was the _good _sort of shocked. He became quickly convinced that it _was_ the good kind, as the thoughts that followed were of excitement at his success, and the fact that it had never been quite so good to see Sasuke. If it didn't go below both his pride and his personality, Itachi would have laughed out loud.

As it was, he opened the door with no change in expression and said simply, "It's nice to see you, otouto."

Sasuke's mouth opened and closed, then finally settled for a muttered, "Mm-hm," as he advanced cautiously into the house. He seemed to expect to be tossed back out at any moment. The paranoia was cute, in a way. Itachi watched Sasuke shuffle away from the door as it swung closed, noted the way Sasuke refused to meet his eyes. When emotion threatened to become tangible, he shoved it far down away in the box he kept such unwanted things in.

"You'll be staying in my room again. I hope that is acceptable?"

Sasuke nodded faintly.

"Good." Itachi allowed himself the barest hint of a smile. "Drop your bag anywhere. You are already acquainted with the house, ne?"

He made a pretense of returning unconcernedly to the laptop, but though he bent closer and tried to read the words, his mind wouldn't focus. He kept glancing up to watch Sasuke prowl through the house, dropping his bag and wrestling his coat and uniform jacket off. Itachi did not miss the way those dark eyes would keep flicking back to him as well.

He had just managed to start truly reading when he sensed Sasuke had stopped in front of him. He looked up, already recovered enough to be slightly miffed at the interruption. Then again, the distraction was rather welcome.

"Spar with me?" It was a cross between a request and a demand.

"The neighbors won't like it," Itachi said, even as he put aside the laptop, closing it this time. "This isn't like the Uchiha compound. They don't like having 'trained around."

Sasuke shrugged, his pout poorly masked.

"Weapons choice?" Itachi inquired.

"Whatever you have on you," Sasuke said. Itachi mentally ran through his arsenal. Without his jacket, it mostly included senbon and the shuriken around his waist and ankles. But then, Sasuke had probably lost a good bit of his stash without his coat or jacket.

The back door in the kitchen led to the yard, which was tiny- not exactly accommodating, but so long as they refrained from any large jutsu (read; katon) it should be fine.

Sasuke attacked almost immediately, flinging three shuriken with deadly aim for his throat, stomach, and kidney. Hm. Otouto had gotten better. Itachi dodged effortlessly and pulled on the sharingan. Sasuke followed suit.

Sharingan against sharingan, the battle became fast and vicious, projectiles rendered near-useless, as their path was too easy to read with their bloodline limit. Itachi ended it before it could become too draining- he didn't know the extent of Sasuke's stamina anymore. His superior speed allowed him to drive Sasuke back with a series of jabs, and then Itachi was pinning him to the fence.

Sasuke glared, sharingan wheels spinning faster for a moment before fading into black. Itachi relinquished his own as well, though it felt more natural to maintain them- more-than-perfect sight was tempting when his world was starting to become noticeably fuzzy. Skills(1) were a bitch sometimes.

Sasuke was sweating despite the cold temperature outdoors. Itachi could see the thin white of his shirt sticking to him.

"The bathroom is between the bedrooms," he said, tugging the stubborn back door closed. The heat felt nice; unlike Sasuke, Itachi had worked only enough to keep warm. His hand-to-hand style was based on as little movement as necessary, whether in attacking or defending.

Sasuke nodded and whisked out of the kitchen. Itachi retrieved the laptop and set himself up in the kitchen, though he was beginning to accept the idea that he wasn't going to be getting much work done. He poured a glass of milk for himself and one for Sasuke, then sat on a stool at the table and sipped, idly listening to the shower.

It was sudden, it was unexpected, it was so _real_. For all his ideas and intentions, imagining having Sasuke here and the reality were very different. Imagination was the triumph over his parents, over their family's ideal. Reality was an extra glass of milk on the table and the sounds of the shower in the background.

Reality was, several minutes later, Sasuke showing up in clothes he had obviously raided from Itachi's dresser. The faded, dark jeans fit him well- they must be around the same size, though at 16, Sasuke was showing signs of most likely getting taller than Itachi. With a loose mesh shirt that Itachi had forgotten he owned, though, Sasuke was transformed into the actual personification of the word 'edible.'

Itach motioned very slightly from the glass to Sasuke. The silent signal was good enough for his little brother, who came over and sat on the other stool, cradling the cup in his hands. They sat in silence, which, while neither comfortable or uncomfortable, was at least natural.

It wasn't until the door opened that Itachi realized something he had overlooked (again). Kisame was not going to be very happy about this.

There were half-inaudible grumbles as Kisame pulled his cloak off and set it and Samehada on the couch (Itachi swore he treated that sword like a person half the time.) The man passed by the kitchen with a tired, uninterested wave. Two seconds later, he appeared full in the doorframe, slamming a hand against the wall.

"The fuck?! I thought we didn't have to deal with that anymore!!"

Sometimes Itachi hated being right.

Sasuke was glaring daggers at Kisame, the swirl in his chakra indicating that he was instants away from activating the sharingan. He was nowhere near as complacent as he'd been when ill.

Itachi was strangely comforted by this. It was more like the little brother he remembered to be hot-tempered about being ignored.

"Didn't you say it wasn't staying?!" Kisame continued.

"I'm not a- a fucking _dog_ or a _pet,_" Sasuke said, making an intentionally heavy thud as he slid off the stool and pulled himself up to full height to glare at Kisame. Taller than Itachi he might get, but taller than Kisame he was not.

"You're just sore because you got sick from before," Itachi said mildly, pretending to pay no attention by leaning in to read the newest article he had found.

"Wh- I am not!" Kisame protested.

"What other objections do you have to him staying here?"

"I don't wanna have to babysit him!"

Itachi drew breath to reply, but Sasuke beat him to it, chakra blazing even more than it had in their fight, sharingan whirling red in his eyes.

"_Babysit_?" he hissed. "I'm _'trained_! I don't require _taking care of_. I can support myself!"

"Big words," Kisame scoffed. "Especially from one so small."

Itachi had a strong urge to remind Kisame that he and Sasuke were around the same size (and that Itachi had wiped the floor with Kisame on several occasions), but refrained.

"You don't believe me?" Sasuke crossed his arms and glared.

"Prove it," Kisame said.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Sasuke disliked Kisame already. He hadn't been too thrilled with the man's attitude before, but right now it outright infuriated him. He didn't care if Kisame wanted him there or not, but doubting his ability- oh fuck no. Sasuke had taken missions before; he was capable of defending himself, he was responsible- hell, he could even garner income if he started taking missions regularly.

Of course, getting missions from the board might be a little more difficult since his separation from his family, but he could always talk to Haku. Or (considering a talk with Itachi that he still hadn't confronted the blonde about) Naruto.

However, the 'Prove it,' challenge- annoying as it was, Sasuke didn't have to respond. Kisame's posture, his fidgeting, all spoke of itching to start a fight. While Sasuke wasn't exactly tired from his spar with Iachi (the lack of real justus had made that drain on his chakra nearly negligable) he wasn't particularly interested in a fight of that magnitude merely to protect his right to live in a house. That was the kind of thing Naruto would do.

Sasuke uncrosssed his arms and leaned against the table. "No."

"What?" Kisame gaped at him. Sasuke could sense Itachi practically _radiating_ amusement from behind his laptop, despite the straight face he kept.

"I said no. I don't have anything to prove to you."

"Fucking--" Kisame turned from him to Itachi. Sasuke suppressed a twinge of anger.

"Is there a problem, Kisame?" Itachi asked. There was a slump to Kisame's shoulders that Sasuke only caught with the sharingan.

"Are all arguments going to be two-to-one from now on?" It wasn't quite a whine.

"Yes," Itachi said. "Which two to which one may vary, though." He leaned back towards the laptop, a motion that was starting to irk Sasuke. You did't need to be that close just to read something.

Kisame grumbled, peered, over Itachi's shoulder. Apparently he was letting it go. Sasuke turned the sharingan off and half-sat on the stool again. Argument averted or not, he didn't like Kisame.

"You know, you really ought to get glasses or something, Itachi." Kisame said. Sasuke nearly choked at the unexpected comment.

"Shut up," Itachi said.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Glossary! 'Cause I've been forgetting about this. I changed a lot of the terms I'm using in this story. The _why_ will be explained in the story eventually.

(1) Skill- a Skill equals a kekkei genkai.

'Trained- shinobi or ninja

First level- genin

Second- chuunin

Third- jounin

Lawless- basically, a missing-nin

A/N: Short chapter. I know. I'm sorry. It's actually early, though, if you consider a couple things that happened in my life.

I told you all about the bike trip I was going on which took forever? Yeah. If I had just gotten back from it, this wouldn't be hitting you for probably another two weeks. However, I ran away. During the night, in South Carolina, totally alone. Dumb? Yes.

Dumber? Got in a car with a man I didn't know. Ended up spending the night at his house, being molested. Not extremely fun. Ran off from his house. My dad called me, picked me up, and sent me home. So... next two weeks while I was supposed to be riding a bike, I was writing this instead.

And then Harry Potter came out and interrupted my typing time... (sweatdrop)

On the story: I had a few problems with this chapter. A couple of scenes I wanted didn't turn out right, and ended up going into a synopsis that heads up the next chapter. That's part of why it's so short.

Also, I had a bit of crisis over story pace. Ultimately, I came to the decision that while the writing is still gonna go however it wants, the relationship pace is probably gonna be sped up rather than attempting to take it really realistically. (This doesn't mean it's going to happen all at once- I have some pride as a writer.) But I've chosen to interest myself rather than attempt realism.

Thank you to all reviewers and anyone who actually came back and read this after that long update wait... O.o;


	7. Chapter 7

Criminal Insanity

Warnings: Umn... Finally starts earning the 'M' rating! Yay! Ahem. I mean... I'm not a pervert. What made you think that?

Disclaimer: I spent my Akatsuki cloak money on Ikasucon. But it was well worth the trade off. Sasori is a marvelous dancer.

Spellcheck of the Day: Ikasucon- Acoustician

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

"Otouto? Have you seen my glasses?"

"On the kitchen table," Sasuke called back. He was doing an essay on the couch, a welcome break from the training regimen Itachi had been putting him through since Christmas break. This was around the same time Itachi had caved to him and Kisame and gotten glasses- Sasuke suspected that the training was some weird sort of revenge. He didn't want to know what Itachi had done to Kisame.

Sasuke and Kisame's falling-out had occurred after a couple of days of living there. Sasuke had brought over some of his things from the Uchiha home- mostly weapons, some clothing. This time, under Kisame's taunting, he snapped. (How dare a man who was _blue_ insult his hair? Of course, the insinuation underneath all of it, that he didn't have a right to be there, had really been what ticked him off. It helped that he had his katana and a full set of kunai strapped to his leg with him.)

The battle had been in the street, outside the house, and it was long, intense, and rather bloody. Kisame had found that Itachi's was not the only sharingan to watch out for. (Sasuke might not have his brother's skill with genjutsu, but that didn't mean he had none.) Sasuke had found out that the Samehada was not a weapon to dodge narrowly. (Several near misses had left his side, his arm, and half of his face shredded. Most of the blood on the street had probably been his.) Kisame had bled, too, though. Apparently he hadn't expected Sasuke to know the kage bunshin technique (honestly– he'd copied that from Naruto _ages_ ago).

Ultimately, though, when several exploding notes had blasted enough rubble to send the angry civilians running for cover, but left rather unsightly holes in the street, Itachi called an immediate halt (when this was enacted by mangekyo sharingan freezing them both where they stood, they listened rather attentively). This proved to be a timely maneuver, as the police pulled up several minutes later.

In a staggeringly _dumb_ move, though, the police were civilians, and one glare from the still-activated mangekyo encouraged the immediate decision to let well enough alone.

Kisame theorized that they had sent civilians since the call had come from a civilian area, and either some neighbor was dumbass enough to not mention that the fight was between two 'trained, or the police were just deaf. Sasuke laughed, but quickly stopped when it hurt.

Even after being cleaned up, Sasuke still looked like he had lost a fight with a lawn mower (which, basically, he had). He very nearly didn't go to school the next day simply because there was no way to disguise the marks (more like open wound) on his face. Itachi had kicked him out, though, literally.

Naruto found it hilarious, of course. The teasing came to a head during lunch, and then came to blows. Naruto won, much to Sasuke's chagrin, though with his chakra drained from the battle the day before (that one had _not_ been sans-jutsus) and the fact that simple kick to his lacerated side started it bleeding heavily again, Sasuke would consider himself rather unfairly disadvantaged.

Naruto demanded the identity of the person who had injured Sasuke that severely (though his actual phrasing was more along the lines of, "Who the fuck ripped you up this bad?!") Sasuke had taken advantage of this to challenge Naruto about the fact that had never mentioned that his older brother was _Kyuubi_.

The yelling (and probably fistfighting) that would have come next were forestalled by the arrival of the nurse. Instead, they ended up discussing whether it was cheating to use Kyuubi's chakra, and came to the decision that it wasn't only because Naruto had no family Skill. Naruto then promised to annoy Kisame as much as possible next time he showed up at what Naruto called 'headquarters.' Sasuke hit him over the head.

The week that followed was one long exercise in pain tolerance– almost any motion pulled at his side, and his right arm probably should not have been used for a while (teachers grew rather exasperated when he kept cracking the scabs and bleeding through his uniform. Sasuke was allowed to wear regular clothes for a while so they didn't have to keep issuing him new uniforms). To top it off, the girls were insufferable. Sasuke took to sitting next to Gaara. The boy's morbid fascination for the damage to Sasuke's face was worth it for the fact that if anyone got too annoying, sand spilled from his backpack and formed half a dome between them and the annoyance.

Amazingly, the scarring left was minuscule (Itachi said it was visible to his sharingan). Kisame was perplexed- the usual scarring from Samehada was monumental. He and Itachi held several discussions about why this might be, and arrived at the conclusion that it must be a combination of good luck and the fact that none of the strikes had actually hit.

On the plus side, though, Kisame had grudgingly admitted that he had misjudged Sasuke. Itachi had added a comment about Sasuke being _his_ brother; the altercation that followed had resulted in Kisame being punched into a wall. Sasuke suspected that this was more because of an earlier suggestion by Kisame that they experiment on Itachi with Samehada and scarring, but Sasuke felt rather warm and fuzzy about it, anyway. It was that first time in a very long time that Itachi had acted like an actual big brother and claimed him, after all.

Now, though, Kisame and Sasuke actually got along better than Kisame and Itachi. Kisame claimed that this was because he could actually hold a conversation with Sasuke without it ending abruptly with an annoyed Uchiha glare that said, 'I'm done talking and why did you even start talking in the first place?' Sasuke attributed this to the fact that he'd been dealing with Naruto as a friend for years. He'd lost the ability of his younger self to be broodily silent all the time.

"Ah," Itachi said, coming out of the room he and Sasuke now shared and gliding over to retrieve the glasses. Itachi maintained that they were more trouble than they were worth, but he seemed to wear them too obsessively to support that assertation. Besides, they looked good on him, though Sasuke would never say that out loud.

He'd found himself noticing his brother in a whole new way, and he wasn't sure he liked it. It was like the hormones he'd long been denying he had were finally kicking into gear, just... directed at the wrong person. Nighttime fantasies were the worst, especially since he was usually close enough to Itachi to practically cuddle– they shared the same bed– and he was morbidly afraid that one night he would wake up to find himself in an... ahem, compromising position. On nights when he was feeling particularly hot under the collar, Sasuke usually slept on the couch under the guise of 'needing his space.' He was starting to suspect Itachi wasn't fooled.

"Kisame and I have a mission later tonight– eat something," was all Itachi said as he pulled on his cloak and went out the door.

Sasuke was used to this by now– their missions weren't frequent, but there had been several of them in the time that Sasuke had been living here. Whatever they were (Itachi wouldn't tell him yet) they were of high enough calibre that even Itachi had come back scraped up and dirty upon occasion. High calibre or not, though, Sasuke had felt fully justified in making fun when Kisame had come back with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. Honestly, what 'trained of his class got hit by a bullet?

He was eating more since he lived here, too– somehow Itachi's offhand commands were more compelling than all of his mother's urging. Usually it seemed like a waste of time to make food when he was just sitting at home; Sasuke tended to eat only when food was put in front of him. That was wonderfully rare here, and so Sasuke was slowly learning how to cook. He showed no signs of ever being good at it.

Sasuke looked back at his essay, frowned, and went to find where Itachi had stashed his laptop so he could hijack it.

The next day was Wednesday, which meant that if Itachi and Kisame made it back before morning, Sasuke was fated to go to school sore. He kind of hoped they wouldn't be back yet. Not to say that he didn't like the extra training- he did, in a masochistic way. He could see the effects already, in combat training in gym or in scuffles with Naruto. Particularly when Naruto accused him of cheating (a sure sign that he'd won by a fair margin.) He didn't doubt that Naruto would be catching up soon, though.

He hadn't told anyone yet that he wasn't living at home anymore. With his history of violently hating Itachi (there had been a couple misguided incidences of him attacking Itachi when he was twelve) it would lead to a lot of strange questions.

Except with Naruto. He had indirectly told Naruto after the incident with Kisame.

Itachi's laptop was nigh-impossible to find. Aniki did this on purpose, Sasuke knew it. When morning came and Itachi was still not back, Sasuke gave up on his search and rewrote his essay on another sheet of paper. He wondered if he should use the 'My computer broke,' or the more truthful 'I couldn't find the computer' excuse for an essay that was supposed to be typed. He decided against either. Uchiha Sasuke did not need excuses.

The transport for this area was late. Sasuke twitched. He hated being late. And he had been actually late a couple times in the last few months. Iruka-sensei didn't seem to mind (he always got in before Naruto, anyway), but he had expressed curiosity that Sasuke wasn't sure how to respond to. 'Yes, well, I moved in with my brother a while ago, and the transports there come later.' Um, no- too much personal information that he would basically be sharing with the entire class.

He'd been standing there perhaps five minutes before the pesky transport pulled up. Honestly. He didn't know what was wrong with these things.

True to his suspicions, Sasuke was quite nearly late to class. Iruka looked up from just beginning attendance as he entered. Sasuke swept the classroom quickly- sure enough, his greatest fear had come to pass. Naruto had made it here before him.

Sasuke mentally cursed at the stupid transports. At a chakra-enhanced run, he could probably make it to school faster than a late transport. (Better not mention that to Itachi; he would think it the perfect thing to add to Sasuke's training schedule. ) At least his seat was still empty- the one he had taken to sitting in was right next to Gaara, and nobody except Naruto dared to take that seat. Naruto, luckily, preferred to sit next to Shikamaru, Chouji, and Kiba.

Sasuke sat down wrapped in a huff as Iruka began to take attendance. The topic of homeroom conversation was the upcoming spring festival and exams (why this needed to be discussed in January, Sasuke wasn't sure).

School bored him, still. Sasuke constantly wondered why on Earth Itachi would voluntarily go through more schooling. (Sasuke certainly wasn't going to bother with college; what use was that when you had 'training?)

The anomaly of the day came during lunch, which Sasuke skipped. Haku had been on a 'make Sasuke eat' bent lately, and while Haku's good-meaning was usually tolerated, Sasuke wasn't interested. He did eat. Just not in public. Was there such a problem with that?

He met Gaara in a backwards little hallway that ultimately led back to the homeroom- just in a very roundabout way. The redhead was leaning against the wall, looking actually more sinister as he appeared to be asleep. The black lines around his eyes formed two dark holes in his face when the lids were closed. The illusion of slumber broke when he opened one eye, then the other, fixing Sasuke with pale, glimmering green. Sasuke stopped, raised an eyebrow at the scrutiny, even as he returned it.

Gaara's pants closely resembled a girl's, though they were too big for him. His upper body was swathed in a sweatshirt with one arm torn off. The long-sleeve t-shirt under it was ratty; the holes revealed bandages under it.

"Uchiha Sasuke." His name was said as if considering it, sounding the syllables out. The sound sent a shiver down Sasuke's spine. He realized that he had never hear Gaara say his name; never actually even heard Gaara speaking directly to him. To Haku, sure, to Naruto, occasionally. But not to him.

"Sabaku Gaara," Sasuke returned deliberately. The glimmer was strange, not usually there. Gaara's eyes were usually blank, flat. This was a spark of something Sasuke couldn't read.

Gaara had latched onto his wrist before he realized it, dragged Sasuke in and twisted him around and slammed him against the wall, knocking the breath half-out of him. Sasuke's mind lagged in trying to process this sequence, skipping like a stuck record on the fact that Gaara was _touching_ him. He tried to remember Gaara ever touching somebody. The closest he came were the times Haku dragged Gaara around by the wrist, and those weren't frequent.

Then there was the quandary of how Gaara managed to catch him off guard enough to pull that entire maneuver on him; Gaara was known as the only 'trained student to ever skip gym; the few times he had attended were the combat days, and he always used his strange, sand-based jutsus. Never genjutsu and certainly not taijutsu.

But then, the retarded rate of thinking Sasuke was currently reduced to would certainly explain being caught off-guard. Before he could begin to think about struggling, Gaara was _biting_ him. Hard, teeth sinking into the delicate skin at the base of his neck. Pain shot bright and hot through his neck and shoulder, constricting his chest and stopping his breath for a moment.

Sasuke's brain seemed to speed up, racing to process both the sensation and _why_ it should affect him so- there was no way this was more painful than getting hit with a kunai or thrown into a wall, and both of those happened to him regularly. Was it the fact of blunt pressure breaking the skin, or the heat, or– oh gods. The pressure of Gaara's tongue against his skin as he could _feel_ the blood bubbling up around the tears in his skin sent a completely different sort of spiraling feeling through him. Rough wet ticklish swipes made his breath come short and heat rise through his body.

Sasuke finally made the connection as Gaara drew away, licking bloodstained crimson lips, and the fire spread from the bite mark to immobilize his arm. He didn't dare try to move away from the support of the wall. It was the same feeling he knew from waking up from a particularly embarrassing dream; the feeling now was what happened when he woke up nearly cuddle-close to Itachi, the irrational urge to reach over and _touch_ them.

But more importantly, in this case– "What the hell?!"

Gaara smiled, a slow, sly sort of smirk. Sasuke could feel the blood trickling down his shoulder now; Gaara leaned forward and licked it off before it could stain his clothes. Sasuke shuddered and fought to draw breath. How could Gaara's mouth be hotter than the pain? And why the hell was he finding it... _arousing?_

Gaara turned and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Sasuke to clap a hand to his bleeding shoulder and regain enough equilibrium to walk. The salt from his hand stung the open wounds- the self-inflicted pain was far less pleasurable.

Sasuke made it back to the classroom far before he probably would have wanted to. Naruto and Haku had gone off somewhere- possibly Haku's classroom. Ino and Sakura latched onto him immediately, though.

"Sasuke-kun!" Ino chirped. "Where _were_ you?"

"Yeah!" Sakura said. "We mi–ssed you!"

Sasuke gritted his teeth as Sakura tugged on his arm, sending spears of pain through the injured muscle.

"Back off, forehead girl!"

"Or what, Ino-pig?"

Oh god. Sasuke wondered if they would ever, ever get tired of him. Please oh please let it be soon. He just wanted them to stop touching him.

Sasuke pretended to ignore them, which usually worked well, as they proceeded to argue as they always did without his input. They didn't sit on either side of him anymore, either- he only had to deal with them on one side. Sakura was luckily forced to relinquish his arm and sit on the other side of Ino.

He didn't want to move his hand- the bite mark would be glaringly obvious and his wide-collared shirt did nothing to hide it.

Gaara's entry to the room froze his breath quite suddenly. Did that make him actually gay, that he preferred an obvious insanity case to the two adoring girls who followed him around?

No matter. It still didn't give Gaara the right to up and _bite_ him (the mark and something lower throbbed as Gaara sat next to him). As soon as the opportunity presented itself, Sasuke was going to get answers.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o

Shukaku was restless. Gaara could feel it in his mind, the chakra winding and swirling around itself, beating against the confines of the cage that kept it inside Gaara instead of Shukaku.

He knew why. Shukaku had been frustrated with him from the first for not killing anyone in the time they'd been in Konoha. Through all of the three months or so they'd been here, Gaara had managed (despite much angry 'urging' from Shukaku- the 'ai' on his forehead had not been just a scar for a while now) to refrain from spilling more human blood than absolutely necessary. The gang members who had attacked him in an alleyway- well, the authorities wouldn't have much to find, really. He had rather lost control.

But beyond that... His days were taken up with school and his own subtle chakra training, torture sessions with Shukaku notwithstanding. And school had Sasuke. Gaara wasn't quite sure what had initially spurred the fascination (though, perhaps... those eyes, liquid black and swirling, or bloody spinning crimson. And perhaps the occasional killer intent, the discontent that almost matched Gaara's. Yes, those could be the reasons), but it had passed the term fascination and skipped to 'obsession.'

Yet Uchiha Sasuke was not dead yet. Gaara had not managed to hunt him properly, or even really declare him his prey. He could not decide what he wanted to do with the boy, barring the obvious. Because he didn't really want Sasuke dead.

It crept up on him slowly, some of the ideas of what to do. Rather, the random, inexplicable urge, hunger.

His sand had tasted the blood of so many. Gaara wanted Sasuke's for his own. Would it be sweet or rich to the taste? Tangy, metallic, salty like the smell? Would it be dark like his eyes or thin and translucent like his skin? That was all Gaara wanted. A taste.

What Sabaku Gaara wanted, he took. That was the lesson he had learned from Shukaku. If he wanted fear, he made it. Terror? Even easier. If there was a life he wanted, blood would spatter the walls. Because what better way was there to achieve proof of his meaning, his belonging to the world? Temari and Kankurou didn't care. Shukaku did nothing but punish him unless Gaara was doing something to his liking. And Shukaku liked death, quite a lot. Gaara grew to like the killing.

Nonplussed by this abnormality in the patter or not, Gaara _would_ have Uchiha Sasuke's blood. He set his body on fire just imagining it; not unlike the contemplation of killing someone who, for no reason at all, had been deemed worthy to die.

Gaara was not particularly patient. Nor did he much care if people were around or not– if his 'classmates' observed someone's death at his hands (or, in this case, his apparent vampirism), it wasn't something that hadn't occurred before. Perhaps it would simply mean they would give up the last feeble, annoying attempts they made to be friendly. Naruto in particular was growing higher on his list of people who really should die.

He didn't have to muck about with audiences, though. Sasuke was just there, in the hallway at lunchtime. There and alone and that gaze was locked with his, black and fathomless and captivating. Gaara didn't bother with thinking. He could feel the blood pulsing through Sasuke's wrist he held captive, warm and fluttering and yes, now he simply _had_ to taste it.

The shock widening those eyes when Sasuke was spun around and slammed into the wall was exciting as any death scream. Sasuke's skin was soft and delicate, ripping under his teeth as he bit squarely on the juncture of neck and shoulder.

Blood, he found, was salty, and coppery, and held just a tint of bitterness. It welled hot beneath his teeth and tongue, and oh, Gaara didn't want to stop. Sasuke shifted, though, and his breath sped up, which was distracting, and besides, the taste was doing odd things to his body.

Watching it drip down from the torn skin was almost as good, but too tempting to ignore. Sasuke didn't seem to share his captivation with the liquid. Actually, he seemed quite put out. Gaara was satisfied for now, though.

Classes were as easy to ignore as ever, but this time as he sat and stared alternately at Sasuke and off into space, half the time Sasuke was glaring back at him, aura overlaid wonderfully with dark intentions, irises seeming to swirl (as though trying to draw him in further– unnecessary. Gaara was captivated enough. There was now way he'd be leaving the Uchiha alone after this.)

"Sasuke-kun, what's wrong?" one of the girls asked him at break.

"Nothing," Sasuke said, glaring at them almost as viciously as he'd been glaring at Gaara. The girl (a blonde with a long ponytail- Gaara couldn't be bothered to remember her name) backed off physically, but didn't give up.

"You've been holding your shoulder since lunch, Sasuke-kun. Did you hurt it? Would you like me to take a look?" The pink-haired one spoke up this time. Gaara inwardly sneered. Silly girl. Sasuke didn't hurt his shoulder. Gaara hurt it.

"No," Sasuke said bluntly. Murderous intent was covered well, but Gaara could sense it. Ah-h, he wanted to be able to kill the boy. Imagined how much destruction would be caused, the struggles, the frustration there would be as Sasuke tried to take Gaara's life in turn. And the raw gush of blood as his body was crushed beyond recognition.

But it had been far too long, hadn't it? He'd left the boy alive all this time. What would it be like to have him dead? No black swirling voids to lose himself in (for once, to forget Shukaku... yes, it was bliss that hid there, that distraction). If Sasuke was dead, there was no more heart to beat, to pump that blood through the veins.

Gaara didn't think it tasted that much different than anyone else's would, really. But he didn't want anyone else's, didn't want to get close enough to _touch_ anyone else, let alone taste. Ugh. So no, he couldn't kill him. But he wanted to.

The bell interrupted his thoughts at the end of the school day. Gaara gathered his backpack and set off from the classroom.

His surprise was unimaginable when the sand surged from the bag of its own accord and blocked something behind him. It was beyond that when he turned to see Sasuke as the attacker. Unbidden, the sick excitement of a close kill rose up, twisting his expression and letting the rest of the sand spill out and begin to swirl and dip around his feet.

The glare that met his eyes was fire, glowing crimson sharingan boring into him. Gaara's blood was racing- this was it, the conflict, the blood, the kill, the song surging through his body and swirling nausea of exhilaration. He could smell the tang of metal clashing with sand. All he could see were the spinning rings of crimson and black, speeding up along with his breath.

"What the fuck... was _that_?!" Sasuke hissed, wincing as he hitched his shoulder for effect. The skin was pink and torn and inviting despite not bleeding anymore. Those were the imprints of Gaara's teeth- he could feel the smirk taking hold of his face, wide and probably not quite sane.

"Was what?" Gaara asked. Sasuke sprang to the attack, something very close to a growl rumbling in his throat. His movement was a blur, the blows sinking through the sand that blocked him. But his eyes were hazy, wild, furious and murderous all at the same time. These were new eyes, better even than the void. A shiver wracked Gaara's body as they came ever closer with each blow. These were eyes he just simply _had to have_.

The sand wrapped around Sasuke as he came in at a run again, snagging his feet and slamming him, pinning him against the wall. Gaara was beginning to like that look on him, the shock, the anger. He kept himself under control this time, though, stalking forward slowly and watching the fury burn in the now slowly-spinning sharingan.

"_This!_" Sasuke hissed, voice low and rough with anger. "What do you want with me? Why the fuck are you doing this?"

"Because." Gaara leaned in to lick the broken skin (it was salty and metallic and roughly torn under his tongue, a taste at once better and not as good as when it was open and bleeding into his mouth). "I want to."

Sasuke made a noise of aggravation. "You need a better reason than _that_!"

"Fine." The sand fell to the ground as Gaara pressed Sasuke up against the wall with his own body (warm and firm and flexing and shifting against him- was this what it was like to touch somebody?) and found the torn edges of his bite mark, lined his teeth up and sucked at the place, trying to draw the blood back to the surface. He could feel Sasuke's chest heave, hear the breath come faster, the heart beat faster; signs he had learned to read, signs of fear, but there was no fear that he could sense. He didn't quite understand.

No blood was forthcoming. With a growl of irritation, Gaara moved further over, to the neck, digging his fingers into Sasuke's arms and biting down. Blood welled fast and thick through the thin skin there, strange and almost sickly going down his throat this time. There were vibrations he could feel as Sasuke cried out softly; Gaara pressed his tongue to the skin to feel it and blood escaped his mouth to stain their skin. His body was doing strange things again, things that made his heart and breath speed up and his hips cant forward and logical thought begin to leave his brain. It felt... good, though. Discomfort, pain, sickness, nausea, burning, fear, anger– he was familiar with all of those. He couldn't remember anything feeling _good_ before.

"You aren't... struggling very much... Uchiha Sasuke," Gaara said, between licks to keep the flowing blood under control. It drew a little whimper each time, a strange noise coming from the angry boy who'd sat beside Gaara for the last few months.

"The fuck?" Sasuke gasped, bucking his hips up, perhaps in an effort to shake Gaara off. Something hard dug into his hip. Gaara pressed harder against Sasuke, feeling the play of skin and muscles through their clothes, and fastened his lips around the still-bleeding bite on the side of Sasuke's neck. It was like a strange, tainted addiction, accompanied by Sasuke's chakra flaring and mixing with Gaara's around them. Sasuke made a kind of choked-off noise and then froze.

"Wow." A feminine voice came from behind him. "Are we interrupting something, boys?"

"What the fuck?" Another one chimed in.

Gaara sent a quick glare their way, long enough to identify the blonde and pink-haired girls who hung over Sasuke constantly. The sand stirred around his ankles, rising slowly into a sort of screen around his legs. Sasuke, who had gone stock-still, gasped and involuntarily relaxed when Gaara scraped his teeth over the wound and half-gnawed on it. Skin under his teeth was just as wonderful as the sickening crunch of bones under his sand.

"What the fuck?" was repeated, and the sand blocked a kunai thrown just to the side of his head.

"Explanation. Now," the pink-haired one growled.

Gaara gave her an even darker glare as the sand began to swirl around him. It would be so easy to kill her, crush her, get her out of the way for interrupting- what? What exactly was she interrupting? It wasn't as if he had to worry about Sasuke getting away. Perhaps it would be better to continue later.

The girls shrank away when Gaara pushed off the wall, sand spiking in strange patterns. He passed them by and headed for the school exit.

The incident had taken longer than he thought- there would probably be another half-an-hour until the next transport. He didn't particularly feel like waiting for it, or like sitting with a large number of other people. Walking was proving very uncomfortable, though. There was an ache between his legs and a quick investigation proved that, oddly, his penis was mostly hard. Gaara labelled this entire experience as somewhat more beyond comprehension than expected. He kept walking regardless, and slowly the discomfort began to wane.

Walking home took a while, and by the time he'd made it, even the sand had calmed down and returned to the bag.

Gaara entered the house to Temari shouting, "One brother steals my clothes, my other steals my fucking makeup! You're paying me back for that, fucker!!"

Home, sweet home.

He wondered when he could next get away.

o.O.o.0.o.O.o.0.o.O.o

A/N: O-------------o. That took a while to get out. My sincere apologies. School has started, along with its traitorous companions, marching band and work, and that severely limits my time. However, at the same time, I get most of my writing done during class, so we'll see. The updates certainly won't be at any sort of lightspeed, though, so don't expect it.

I will see about trying to be faster than this. (sweatdrop) Again, don't count on it.

Next chapter teaser: HOMG Uchihacest. (evil grin)

In response to an unsigned review question: Umn. The spellcheck of the day doesn't really have much of a purpose. It's the hilarious things that spellcheck comes up with when it doesn't know Japanese.


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